If my grandfather were still alive, he would be 100 years old today. He was a man from another time and place, but his life had a profound impact on mine, and he continues to influence me to this day.
Granddad was born in London, a true cockney and shopkeeper's son. I don't know when he learned to garden, or where, as I can't imagine his family growing radishes and raspberries in the concrete jungle. Perhaps he only began to cultivate as a war measure, along with thousands of other Britons (and others) who grew Victory Gardens. Just before WWII, he moved his new family to the commuter suburbs of London, to a semi-detached home with a back garden. He planted a fruit and vegetable garden there that grew to occupy most of the back garden, and enlisted his family's help to look after it.
My mother recalls spending hot summer afternoons there as a child. Weeding and harvesting were chores for her and her sister after school during the week. On weekends, Granddad would lead the work party, and gardening became fun! Together they grew much of the food they ate during the war and the decade of rationing that followed during the post-war rebuilding period.
After all that back-breaking labour, Mum was pretty much done with Victory Gardens. When I was growing up in Canada, there were always flowers and shrubs in the garden, but not much in the way of veg or fruit. Maybe some rhubarb, and a tomato in a pot.
So, where did I get my interest in gardening? Maybe it's a recessive gene! I spent a few summers with my Granddad, when he visited us in Canada, or we visited him in England. This gave me the chance to learn a few things from him directly.
Lesson #1: always put a way your tools when you are done. I have not internalized this lesson very well. Gardening at Hummingbird Community Garden helps, as I pack all my tools into the car to bring them home.
Lesson #2: How to air-layer a Schefflera. I won't go into detail. Suffice it to say that it's not really necessary as you can throw a Schefflera cutting near a pot of soil and it will root.
There may have been more lessons he threw my way, but I was a teenager and not listening very carefully. By then I probably thought I knew better.
This summer I brought my Mum to see how my garden was growing. I gave her a quick tour and then left her to visit the rest of the plots while I caught up with weeds and water. After a few minutes, she called out, "Your lettuces need thinning." "I'm sure they do", I replied, "but I never have the heart to thin them properly."
"Here, let me show you," said Mum. "You just reach in here above the soil, grasp one by the stem, and gently pull it out. That way you leave the rest with more room to grow, and you don't disturb their roots much. That's how your Granddad always taught us." So Mum and I thinned the lettuces a little, just until we had enough baby lettuce for a salad.
All summer I kept reaching into the densest clumps of lettuce to pull out a few little lettuces for dinner. By mid-summer I had only a dozen or so lettuces left in my row, huge heads, just beginning to think about bolting. These last few I cut for a couple of weeks of nothing but salad.
So this summer I got the chance to learn one more gardening lesson from my Granddad, even though he passed away 14 years ago. Happy Birthday, Granddad!
I had an interesting time with my carrots this year. The first batch I planted didn't germinate. Not even one seed. I don't know what I did - wrong phase of the moon, too cold, too warm, too dry, too wet? Maybe even seed too old. After a couple of weeks it was clear that nothing was coming. So I got some seeds in seed tape, and planted those. 
