One of the first jobs I ever had was working for my neighbor Marty as a gardener. He lived in the corner house across the street from us. The “underground house” we called it, because it was partially underground and you could literally touch the roof if you wanted to. It was totally unique, and to this day I’ve never seen a house like it.
A few of the houses on our block were in a Parade of Homes in the 1980s. The underground house was featured, and the house owned by our immediate neighbor to the left of us (if you were heading out the front door). That was “Mary and Jerry’s house,” as we called it. Our house was built exactly like their house, except everything was opposite. Our garage was on the left, their garage was on the right. Our steps going upstairs were on the left as you walked in, and their steps on the right. I knew how the entire house was laid out because I went inside to play with the neighbor boy Joey once in a while. He had these cool kid stilts in his basement! He also had one leg shorter than the other and a foot that needed a different sized shoe. I never really thought of him as that different from me or my sisters though. He had been adopted, and I knew Mary was a nurse. Joey had a lot of health problems, but he was like any other kid too, and let me borrow his skateboard when I wanted. Because I played with Joey, I also was around his mom too and got to know her.
Look don’t touch
The hallway leading to the kitchen in Joey’s house had a collection of beautifully beaded purses hanging on the wall. I wanted to touch one so badly, but I never did, well maybe once, quickly. My mom’s wall had a collection of thimbles she had gotten from various trips, mostly from her mother-in-law, my Grandma Mary Jean. But the purses hanging on Mary’s wall were what I remember in my neighbor’s house the most. That and the pristine grand piano in the front room Joey used to play so well. We had both taken lessons from Johanna across the street from us, but he was years ahead of me in lessons and so so good. He’d also play the drums sometimes and we could hear it in our house.
My neighbors Marty and Mary, along with the previous owners of the underground house who I never really talked to, inspired me to love flowers and gardening.
The Underground House
Sitting on my mother’s living room couch with the light blue carpet, I could look out the front windows and see the underground house. I’d sit there when I wanted to be quiet, or waiting to head out to the bus, or in later years for my ride to school to pick me up.
The first owner that lived there was a professional landscaper. Things were always timed to bloom during all seasons. In the spring it was particularly magnificent with red and yellow tulip bulbs popping up. The flowers were evenly spaced in rows and expertly filled the front and side flowerbeds. It looked straight out of a garden magazine or like what you’d imagine you might see in Holland when tulips are in bloom.
The grass was already beautifully green in early spring too. The lawn sloped upward slightly from the lower part of the house where the front door was, to the side and back of the house. Every inch of the perimeter had a flower bed, taller plants in the back and shorter plants in the front. So smart I thought.
Whenever we’d drive or I’d bike by I’d love to sneak a closer look. I knew better to never step on the grass.
At Christmas time the underground house lit up on every surface and edge of the roof. Colorful lights twinkled and were timed. We’d often see folks slow down to look as they drove by. It reminded me of a gingerbread house. I loved it! My mom didn’t care for lights with colors, or anything that “twinkled.” I was always the one who put up our lights. We just had white. Looking across the street, I always wanted something like that.
Working for Marty
Once Marty moved in it was a completely different story. At Christmas he managed to do quite a few lights because getting to the roof was simple. But imagine taking on such a perfect landscape. I wondered what would happen to it. Unlike the previous owners, Marty was super chatty and loved to walk over and talk. Crossing the street, waving… we got used to it. For the first time I got to walk on the lawn when Marty moved in.
Over the years Marty grew a beard and kinda looked like Santa Clause. I can’t remember how getting the job working for him as a gardener really started. But I do remember him paying me $8.00 an hour, which at the time was really good! By the time I started working over there in the summer, the garden looked overgrown and really needed attention. He had started digging up things in some spots and tried his best, but it was so much to take care of and he had gotten overwhelmed just trying to keep up. I was given freedom to pull and yank anything out I wanted and move things around without asking. He trusted me. This was a huge influence on me and allowed me to experiment and try different things without worry of messing up.
“You need SPF 45..” (Katy Perry)
I once worked over there gardening in a swimsuit, with shorts on, with my back exposed to the sun, for a long time. I worked hours, bent over digging in the dirt alone. I didn’t wear any sunblock though, and my back got fried! When I got home I was so miserable, and probably had heat exhaustion. I remember laying on my bathroom floor in the dark trying to recover. I learned from that time on to wear a hat, sunblock, and drink plenty of water.
SimGarden
The yard never looked the same or as perfect as it was prior to when Marty moved in, but I was able to get it to a point of being manageable. It was realistic, not perfect, and it was very satisfying. Before I went off to college Marty gifted me a landscaping computer program. It meant a lot to me, even though I don’t think I ever opened it until nine years later when I got my first house in Blaine, Minnesota. By that time the program was pretty much obsolete. One of the first things I did though was to plant daffodil bulbs around the front two trees. I found a spot for peonies that I had transplanted from my Mom’s yard, and a lilac bush I purchased, and other plants that reminded me of home in Wisconsin.
Fake or Artificial?
I learned from my next door neighbor Mary about drying flowers. She had the most beautiful peonies. My mom had a row of them too. (The ones like I mentioned above I transplanted) Mary showed me how to use the traditional powder laundry detergent Borax to gently cover the petals and allow them to dry out. One time I went over to her house. I believe she had asked me to help her out with this process because she was going to be gone. I had to trim the blooms off the plant and place them into a box that had the Borax in it. She demonstrated how to start with the lower bottom petals first and gradually work your way up to the top covering them without squishing anything down too much. She was a perfectionist! I watched carefully and tried really hard not to disappoint her if I couldn’t do it right. I do remember trying it in my garage too with our flowers. It worked great, and I loved seeing how it kept the flowers’ color and shape. She was the “Martha Stewart” in my life. I gained an interest in similar type skills and to this day admire taking the time to really learn a craft or skill like those I saw at Mary’s house. The only other person in my life at the time that did similar projects was my Grandmother I mentioned above. The first part of her name was “Mary” as well. She went by Mary Jean.
Bleeding Heart
Mary and Jerry had pink bleeding hearts in their yard too. I remember those growing under their backyard side tree that was close to our side of the yard. A spring flower, last year I bought a white bleeding heart plant for my yard and thought of her. I can see it coming up now, and am so happy it made it through the winter. I love that it’s a perennial, meaning it comes up every year.
Mary and Jerry also had a pond with fountain and fish in it! In later years my folks realized half of it was actually over the property line into their yard. Their grass was always super green with no weeds in it. I did occasionally walk on it, but only if I was invited over to play with Joey or if Mary was in the mood to teach me something new. When I walked over the line of our slightly less green lawn into their yard it felt different and special, like I was entering a secret garden.
“Weeding”
I helped another neighbor named Lisa down the street at one point too. I’d weed her yard. But it was very different because the weeds were tiny little sprouts, we’re talking less than an inch sometimes! When she asked me to weed, I even wondered why. She showed me the weeds she wanted pulled and I was so confused at first. The contrast to Marty’s house was night and day. Some of the weeds at his house were taller than I was. I’d tackle those suckers. To get these tiny weeds I had to get down really close to the ground. I’d pinch them out ever so slightly to make sure I got the most miniature root out. Again, she was a perfectionist. I didn’t want to miss one. I kinda got to see the range of approaches to gardening, this experience being the most particular.
The shortest job I ever was employed for was one day. One. It was the first summer after I’d graduated college. I answered an ad in the actual classifieds in the newspaper for a “weed picker” job. Yup. I was hired to weed, but I thought it was going to be around residential properties. Nope. I was in parking lots! I did exactly what Lisa had asked me to do. I picked tiny little weeds all day long until my wrists hurt so bad! As soon as I parked after a long day riding around in a smokey smelling pickup truck with another gal, I got out and told the boss “I quit.” No thank you!
Patience and planning
I also worked for a woman my mom worked with as a teacher. She lived alone and had a very nice yard. She taught me a lot, like how to be patient and plan plantings. She had grass she wanted weeded out, but also had other priorities she wanted help with and would direct me to where she wanted me to weed or dig that day. She always conveyed a longterm goal for her yard and timed certain tasks and projects accordingly. Her name also happened to be Mary, go figure.
My wood chuck buddy
The summer after my senior year in high school I got a job working in a greenhouse a couple of miles from our house. The funny thing is, it had no flowers. Well, it had fake “artificial” flowers, but no live plants. Tons of pots and huge urns and garden decor items filled the three glass roofed rooms. Some were extremely heavy, and very expensive. I worked at the cash register mostly, and sometimes was the only person there. I loved when I could organize the fake flowers and sort them by type and color. They looked just like the real thing.
It got very very hot in there too! I hardly felt like eating that summer and lost ten pounds I think. I remember I was also in the Middleton community theater show of South Pacific, playing Nellie. I’d rehearse my lines outside on a deck they had at the end of the gravel road and parking lot. Some days it was very slow. I once saw a wood chuck or small furred animal of some sort while I sat working on my lines. It was super funny. He or she just slowly crossed in front of me not caring I was there.
It was that summer I was introduced to how real artificial flowers can look. Last weekend I bought some fake pink tulips in a glass vase that look and feel so real. I thought of my time working in that greenhouse and was impressed that artificial flowers have continued to evolve and get even more realistic.
Endless summer dirt
The year after I graduated college at the University of Minnesota I worked for a short time at Bachman’s in Minneapolis. They are in the flower business mostly. But they also have plants and trees and gifts and yard decor. I loved working there! I worked in customer service and people would bring dead plants up, usually the Endless Summer Hydrangeas we’d sell and guarantee for a year. They’d show me the tag still on the branch. I got used to offering refunds and sweeping up the counter from the dirty mess people left. I learned plant names, current trends, and trusty standards gardeners at all levels of experience wanted and tried in their yards.
My Secret Garden Project
The summer before I graduated I was feeling super down. I had just failed to get into a third year on the Minnesota Centennial Showboat after having been employed by them the two previous summers. The University of Minnesota Theater and Dance department, of which I was studying Music, Theatre and Dance in had been a huge part of my college experience. I was incredibly shocked and got a taste of reality in how the “real world” in the entertainment industry often is. Even if you’re super talented and have a rocking audition, you sometimes just don’t get the part. It can be hard to not know why. At the time I hadn’t experienced rejection a whole lot. It offered me a chance to regroup and focus on my last fall semester I’d need to complete before graduating. I knew I’d need to pull myself together and find some way to deal with my dear friend and roommate Brooke leaving every day to go work Stage Management on the boat.
One day on a walk by our apartment I noticed a very overgrown garden in front of a Ronald McDonald House. We were by the hospital on campus and children and their families would stay there during treatment. The garden was by the entrance and it was so full of weeds. I knew I could make it better, so I asked permission to volunteer there and clean it up. They let me and allowed me to use their garden tools in a shed I unlatched out back. I could come and go whenever I wanted. It was perfect. That garden healed me. It made me feel good to unearth beautiful perennials like Black-eyed Susans. The work I did gave space for the garden to be enjoyed and walked through by visitors. I never once got stung by the many busy bees doing their business pollinating. I became part of that garden.
House plants
For my last birthday I asked my family to meet me at Olbrich Gardens in Madison. It’s a favorite place of mine. The conservatory there is open year round and the warm misty air was much needed after a long winter. My Mom came along and my Dad later shared pictures he took of Orchids. My Mom has at least a dozen in her “sun room.” I’ve plant-sitted for her a couple times. She’d write me sticky notes for how much water to put in each one, or how many seconds to count with each pour. It was a precise ritual she’d perform weekly. I managed to keep them alive, but houseplants are not my specialty. I do see how much joy they bring to my Mom though.
I had a really large plant in college that lasted for over a decade. But as soon as “Stan” which is what I named it, was transported to Wisconsin it died little by little. It was awful. I cried so hard. For a plant! I just had had it for so long, like probably fifteen years. I remember my friend Amanda helping me stuff ever so carefully this plant into my little black Toyota Corolla I bought from my Dad. We laughed so hard we had tears rolling down our cheeks. It was hilarious trying to transport it from my apartment my husband and I lived in for a few years after we were first married to our first house. After Stan, I kinda lost my touch. I bought a “sure-thing” plant the lady at the garden center had sent me off with saying “you can’t kill this one.” It died in my husband’s office. Nope. Then my son helped me build some Lego Succulents. That’s as “sure-thing” as you can get, trust me.
Maybe I’ll try again. I did just get two baby spider plants the lady at the gym reception desk said needed a home. I planted those this week. Fingers crossed, I could use a second chance and a little faith in myself again, like I felt working in Marty’s yard all those years ago.
I got this.
Flower Power
It’s been two and a half weeks since I lost my best girl, Savy. A dear friend of mine lost her Dad on the same day. Another dear friend of mine had beautiful flowers delivered to my house. Pink roses and carnations with white daisies arrived by the time I came home from my first day back at my day job. As soon as I saw how lovely they were, I burst into tears! The colors were feminine and gentle, just lovely. I was so appreciative. So touched honestly.
I’m convinced flowers have the power to heal. They’ve helped me feel and process my life, over and over again. Maybe because they too don’t live forever. They remind me to be in the moment, enjoy them while I can, to never give up but also let go. There is a season for everything, and not every season is the right time. So be patient Annie, and “have faith!” as my neighbor Bob yelled over to me when I was sure I had killed my hostas and they were not coming up. All I could hear was “you can’t kill a hosta” in my head, had I? No. They came up, and today I saw my first one popping out this season. Sigh.
I knew I wanted to bring flowers to my friend in the coming days to express sympathy and support. I scrolled for florists in my area. Browsed arrangements, prices… Then I thought, why don’t I just try to do it myself? So I did.
Flower Baskets by Annie
I collected some money from fellow and past co-workers and then made a spontaneous visit to the local St. Vinny’s. I found glass vases and baskets that could work and ended up buying a couple. I also stopped at the Dollar Tree and bought a pool noodle I thought I’d cut to put in the vase, perhaps to fill in the area. Oh, and a couple fabric swatches maybe typically used for quilting to line the basket with. The pattern had green leaves and butterflies on it, and I thought would soften the look. In the car, I quickly tried it out in the basket and it looked great!
Next I went to our local small grocery store and found some potted flowers I liked in similar pinks. I found white daisies too and tried fitting them all in the basket. I left a little space for the vase. It was coming together. I planned to come back and get a small bouquet the day I’d deliver the basket, and that worked great too. I found some crisp pink tulips that felt like a beautiful spring touch. When I added the water around the pool noodle, I was reminded of the underground house, and when I first ever saw tulips. Also, how excited I was getting to see new tulip bulbs start to come up in my yard this year that I’d planted last fall.
I never once worried about it being perfect. I enjoyed the process of it from start to finish. I loved how it turned out, and being able to share the power of flowers with someone else.
Here is a photo of the basket of flowers I made:
For a moment I dreamed of doing flowers as a business, on a volunteer basis or just for fun. To go from feeling down and sad, to feeling inspired and hopeful is truly the power of flowers.
Do you have a flower or plant story to share? I’d love to hear it. Leave a comment below.