Dad’s happy place…
His happy place was the garden and the hum of the lawnmower. Corn, tomatoes, zucchini, peppers, potatoes, lettuce—if it grew, he planted it. When they settled on Bates Lane, those couple of acres sparked pure joy; he could finally build the sprawling garden his dad always had. Hours melted away as he tended the soil. I can still hear him hollering at Juno, Tim’s dog, who’d sneak in to snatch his tomatoes, “Get outta my garden!”
Dad enjoying his garden and yard in July, 2014.
Go Big or Go Home…
Dad may have underestimated his green thumb, but his garden had other plans—soon overflowing with more vegetables than they could possibly eat. True to his generous nature, he shared the abundance with neighbors and family. Every corner of that backyard reflected his care and love—from the trees and flowers he planted, to the trellis, the grotto, birdhouses, and the swing where he enjoyed his morning coffee. He didn’t just tend a yard—he created an oasis. His oasis.
The Grotto
The Grotto meant a lot to Dad. The story goes Dad saw Mary when his boat was hit during gun fire patrolling the rivers in Vietnam. The impact was so great it threw him from the boat into the river. With all the heavy gear he had on as well as being injured by shrapnel from the boat, he knew he was drowning. He couldn’t make it to the surface. He told us he felt at peace at one point, saw the letter floating that would be sent to his parents telling them he died in action… He said he said a prayer to Mary that if she saved his life, he would honor her the rest of his life. And so he did. That Grotto stood in our back yard at our Lavender Street house, then to he transplanted it to the Bates Lane house where he tended to her grounds, lighting up her at night with solar lights and planting beautiful flowers every year in her honor. His gratitude showed in how he cared for her.
