A few years ago, while my husband Bob and I were walking along the walking path near our home, we spotted a friend’s vegetable garden. It had gone from freshly plowed dirt to medium-sized plants almost overnight, so we knew they had planted seedlings rather than seeds. This sparked a memory for Bob from his childhood. On the land his parents, Walt and Joann Schulenberg, shared with his grandparents, Robert and Nettie Knox, they had a large garden. Bob recalled checking it nearly every day to see if the seeds had started to sprout. He and his grandpa would walk through the rows, and young Bob, called Bobby back then, would excitedly point to something green where the seeds had been planted, asking, “Is that a plant, Grandpa?” only to be let down when his grandpa replied, “No, that’s a weed.” It was precious time spent with his grandfather, learning about gardening and just spending time with his grandfather.
I was reminded of my husband’s grandfather, who wasn’t much of a socializer most of the time, but in the garden, he truly came alive. I could picture Grandpa and young Bob out there, with Grandpa teaching his grandson the finer points of gardening. He was skilled at many things, but the garden was where he seemed most at home. In his younger days, he worked on several ranches, so being outdoors and working with his hands just fit. I doubt many men are passionate about gardening, and I can’t quite picture Grandpa in a flower garden, but when it came to a vegetable garden, he took great pride in it and in the food that it provided for the family. Even in his old age, he was providing for the family, and that was important to him. No one wants to feel like they are no longer useful. The garden was a huge part of who Grandpa was, and our memory of him.
When the vegetables were ripe, he’d pick them and the canning would begin. I remember joining the family and seeing the canning in full swing. It took the whole day, but when it was done, we had enough vegetables to last the year. Canning wasn’t always my favorite task, but there was a certain satisfaction in opening those jars at dinner, knowing exactly where they came from. The best part of having Grandpa tend the garden was that he did all the hard work, and we enjoyed the rewards. I’m not much of a gardener myself…especially when it comes to weeding…so it was definitely more Bob’s idea of a pleasant memory than mine. Still, it’s a wonderful memory for Bob, who was named after his grandfather. Today is the 117th anniversary of Grandpa Knox’s birth. Happy birthday in Heaven, Grandpa Knox. We love and miss you very much.
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