My mom didn't like anything untidy, which included gardening. Widowed in 1951, she managed her finances well and was able to buy a house in 1960, which was highly unusual for a single woman in those days. When we moved in, it seemed like it had a "nice-sized" yard. But all the yard work was my responsiblity starting at age 12, and I swear every time I mowed the grass with our old hand-mower the lawns got bigger. She couldn't afford tools, so I edged all the walkways and the double driveway with a serrated kitchen knife. I learned to climb trees and prune them with an old handsaw. Large back beds that needed attention all summer long bordered the lawn, and the honeysuckle bushes that twined between our fence and the neighbors had to be pruned at least once a month. Mom wanted a rock garden in one corner, so I built one and planted it with annuals every year until the summer I turned 18. I never had anything interesting to share when I went back to school and was asked what I did on my summer vacation, and I secretly swore I'd never mow a lawn again as long as I lived!!
Grandma (Mom's mom) on the other hand, had a small yard with a veggie garden, a few roses, a giant lilac, two dwarf pie-cherry trees, thubarb and a cluster of chives that seemed to live even through Denver winters. Oh, and hollyhocks against the alley fence (everyone had those). She was always picking something from the garden and cooking it. Her garden was often a mess (and her house was a total disaster) but she didn't care as long as she was outside puttering or in the kitchen cooking.
Like me, my garden is sort of a mix of their divergent lifestyles. I designed it with a teeny postage-stamp oval lawn, and deep raised beds for my veggies and decorative plants. In the center of the yard is my "meadow garden" which is a hodge-podge of flowers that frankly run completely amok in the summer. If I feel like manicuring, there's always plenty that needs attention, but I really prefer letting the plants do what they want to do, and just enjoying them!
