Gardening and Golf

I absolutely adore this time of year with the new warmth and longer light hours each day. The cormorants have already returned to the river, the crocuses are in full bloom and the hellebores (Lenten rose) are boldly beautiful beside them. Next will come the bursting open of the forsythia buds and narcissus. And again, my memories of George working every inch of this garden, stream through me.

We (George and I) always had this battle about raking the early spring garden.  I feared for the tender tops of the new growth and George loved the look of the cleared fresh earth. So this is the fourth spring that the garden hasn't been raked and the tulips are coming right through the leaves again. So I gently lift, with my hands, some leaves (for the compost bin) from around the shoots and there is the fresh earth. And then I think wouldn't it be nice to have George here raking this garden again.

And George would be thinking as much about getting to the golf course as he would about this raking. So I drive out to visit George's grave site which is within eyesight of the seventh hole of the Owen Sound Golf and Country Club. And I count the golf balls.

Of course, being a doctor, George knew how terminal his cancer condition was and right after his golfing partner, Dr. Ralph Bunston's funeral in mid July of 2005 he decided to  be be buried rather than cremated. His brother, Bill, went with him to pick the plot in Mount Peasant Cemetery and George said he wanted his golfing buddies to be able to wave at him when they were going down the seventh.

At George's funeral celebration on August 25th, 2005 each of the grandchildren placed a memory memento in the coffin to be buried with Grampa. He had golf clubs, special notes, a  fishing tackle box and blooms from his glorious garden. After the service, Jacob our 8 year old grandson placed a golf ball, that he had forgotten to place in the coffin, on the grass where the tomb stone would later be placed. In September when I  first inspected the tomb stone installation, there was Jacob's golf ball still at the foot of the stone.  I was touched and decided to leave it. A few days later, when I visited there were 3 golf balls. How touching was that? I decided to take a golf ball myself so I picked a brand new one fom George's supply and placed it with  the other three.

I was thinking that these golf balls would soon disappear but to my surprise, instead of leaving they are multiplying. Today when I counted there were over 40. This is over three and half years later.  I have no idea who all gifts George 's site with a golf balls or who may borrow one or two: I just know the number of balls keeps changing.  I  smile every time. And I think it is so neat that the cemetery  service people   seem to be cooperating  by working around the stash. I tuck them in as tightly as possible to the edge of the stone.  From a distance they look like Easter Eggs.

So welcome spring and the joy of the crocus blooms bringing forth memories galore. I cherish every "bloomin" memory.