Sweet William

Sweet William. Along with the bright colours of autumn dahlias, Sweet William always remind me of my Grandad's garden. He grew them every year without fail and I think I love them because of it. Grandad's garden was very organised. A small lawn for the grandkids to play on and a path up the middle seperating the remaining garden, with regimented rows of beans, potatoes,onions and peas doing their own thing, scrambling up the pea sticks. The other side of the garden was my favourite because that's where the flowers grew. Reds, yellows, blues and pinks. At that age, I couldn't identify most of the flowers, I just knew if they were pretty, or smelt good. The fences of the garden were low and much time was spent chatting to neighbours, although voices had to be raised to include those a couple of houses down the row. I can also remember the pigsty, almost a ruin then, hidden down in the far corner of the garden. I couldn't understand why this small red brick litle building was called a pigsty. I'd nver seen a pig there. But apparently, Grandad used to keep pigs during the war to supplement the rations. Although, not allowed to keep all of the pig when it was slaughtered, I'm sure it helped feed the family still left at home, not away fighting.

He was brought up in the countryside, his brother a shepherd I think. So keeping animals was a normal thing to do in those days......I think we're getting back to that way of life now aren't we? I think there may have been chickens too at one time. I also remember the Anderson shelter. It intrigued me, even scared me a little. Many people kept these after the war and Grandad's was still going strong in the sixties and seventies when I was young. It was split into two sections, with an entrance at either end of the shelter. One side was used as a little work shop, with a bench and tools hanging around the corrugated iron walls. The other side was full of plant pots and other gardening paraphanaelia. It was here that the onions were strung and hung in the autumn. Well, last Saturday whilst shopping in town, I saw these flowers and had to buy a couple of bunches and bring them home with me. They still look pretty today, some in the lounge and a few on a kitchen shelf, reminding me of my Grandad's garden. Do flowers bring back memories for you? I would love to know. I know that foxgloves always make me think of my husband and I suspect cow parsley in the lanes always remind him of me. Flowers...don't they bring back evocative memories.