– by Michael Forbes –
When I was young, my grandfather was an avid gardner, a passion that he no doubt picked up as a teen while pushing daisies in a wheelbarrow working at The Butchart Gardens. He had such a zeal for it that he turned his small yard near the Gorge into a garden that would have made Jennie Butchart proud. He also had a knack for growing vegetables and was always delighted when he could make a fresh salad hand picked from his bounty.
He really knew his way around a hoe, so imagine our surprise one day when we discovered he might be a ‘mere mortal’ in the realm of green thumbery. Blame it on “that damn tomato plant.” For weeks it had become his nemesis and festered into a riddle that he could not solve. Despite watering it, nourishing it and coddling it, this stalk of green bore no tomatoes. We wondered if perhaps this Wayne Gretzky of gardening had lost his touch? The answer came the day a retired cop friend, who was being given the grand tour, stopped at this four-foot thorn in his side, this fruitless excuse for a tomato plant. His buddy, quite surpised, was all too familair with this vision swaying in the breeze before him. It seems my grandfather had grown and nutured a vibrant and robust bushel of … marijuana.
Turns out his embarrassment was carried out as a joke by his “hippie” renters who had thrown some seeds into the soil when they were moving out. Mother Nature, it seemed, provided the punchline. Not wanting a reputation as the biggest drug lord on Walter Avenue, this blasphemy had to go so my grandfather tore it out and tossed it in the compost bin. After a few days though, this sun-dried Mary Jane whispered her taunts, reminding him of the time he played the fool, so he knew he had to put them both out of their misery.
No one knows how long his bloodshot eyes gazed giddily into the flames, but afterwards, as the legend goes, he ate lunch, then a half a block of cheese, and washed it down with two cans of sardines. No doubt the plumes of smoke tumbling through his neighbours’ yards must have caused a spike in Doritos sales that day.
I often think of my papa and the beauty he brought to the world as I gaze into the barren wasteland of my own backyard. It’s scarred by the crop circle of dead grass from last summer’s swimming pool and blackberry bushes that have swallowed up the begonias. We do not have a green thumb, but this month we’ve decided there’s an urgent need to beautify our world. It won’t be easy, considering our boys are fused to their Xbox and Lisa has a severe case of scoleciphobia (fear of worms). We will, however, march steadily forward into the valley of the weeds and make do with our rake with the handle broken off, a plastic orange kiddie sand shovel and some oven mitts, in an attempt to restore our yard to its former glory.
My grandpa would be proud … and he might still be a little stoned, too.
Forbes & Marshall are the hosts of Ocean 98.5’s popular morning show. Join them weekday mornings from 5:30 to 10:30 a.m.
