I remember my Grandad’s excitement. The gracefully draping Hakea tree in front of the local Bakery had flowered and set seed pods. Seeing Lenny’s triumph at finding a way to propagate a tree he admired was a pretty normal part of my childhood. My Mum was a dedicated helper. When the pittosporum in the horse paddock finally flowered and set seeds we took Lenny to harvest those too. Even identifying these trees was part of the challenge – in a time before Google images.
I remember visiting my Grandparents and always getting a tour of the Styrofoam boxes that housed the treasured seedlings Lenny coaxed from the seeds he collected. And the gift of whichever plants were ready for new homes. Trees were the main game but Lenny always had sidelines in roses and other beautiful garden gems.
I value the connection that growing things has for me and my family. Lenny is the first link I can remember in that chain – My Mum is a disciplined gardener who always has some fresh food to offer from the garden. She recounts how Lenny fed their family from his garden. I live for my garden, it is my solace and sanctuary when the season is good and things grow. More of a heartbreak when the dry hits and things that once flourished give up. I still get excited about trees and I think one day I will have my own rows of Styrofoam boxes full of treasures.
