Miracles Grow in the Garden
This will be home to accounts of some of the moments great &small that we have been blessed to see in the everyday celebration of the
People-Plant Connection
You are invited to share your special moments too.
Hopefully, this will become a book in the future.
Trapped in a Mango Tree
excerpted from Windowsill Whimsy, Gardening & Horticultural Therapy Projects for Small Spaces
by Hank Bruce & Tomi Jill Folk, Petals & Pages Press, 2008
Ardele was born and raised in south Florida, but now she lived in a nursing home near Orlando. It’s sometimes very difficult when your health has declined, you have outlived most of your family. Sometimes you feel so alone. We were told by the lady at the desk, "The one in the wheelchair by the door, that’s Ardele, she’s got an attitude problem. Just between you and me, I don’t think she’s a good candidate for your kids project."
We were starting an intergenerational story swap program at "The Palms." It would involve some children from six to nine and about a dozen seniors. We looked at Ardele, sitting with a scowl on her face. A frown went from forehead to chin as she sat with arms crossed watching the children as they entered the lobby.
After the introductions, they all shared names no one would remember, and smiles that would be cherished for a lifetime. Everyone made their way out to the atrium where there was a fountain and a few trees, some flowers and several dancing butterflies. The first session is always a little difficult. Getting acquainted takes some time, then the magic can begin.
Many of the children had brought books to share and one of the gentlemen sat clutching a small CD player with a story he had recorded for his great grandson. The shyness soon dissolved into a joyful chaos of people talking, shaking hands, asking questions and becoming friends.
One of the elderly ladies pointed to a butterfly and started to tell a story from her childhood about how she rescued a big yellow butterfly from drowning. It seemed that everyone was talking, laughing, and listening as friendships grew. But Ardele sat, still scowling, all alone at the corner of all the activity.
A young boy was also standing alone watching several bees as they danced around the young mango tree in the planter beside Ardele. Finally he pointed to it and smiled a cautious smile as his eyes met Ardele’s. "Bees. Be careful, lady." he spoke so softly.
"Don’t be afraid. They make honey from the flowers," she said, as she lifted her head and the frown began to disappear.
The young fellow pondered this for a little bit, then spoke, "How?"
Ardele motioned for him to come closer, and he did. As she told him all about bees and honey and how they visit each flower and then find their way back to the hive and tell the other bees where to fine the nectar. The next time we glanced their way he was sitting on her lap and she was pointing out the deep burgundy new leaves on the young mango tree. Several other children were gravitating toward them, as were some of the elders.
She leaned forward and almost whispered, "Did ya ever get trapped in a mango tree?"
She went on to tell a story from her childhood, when she climbed a mango tree in a neighbor’s yard to get one of the fruit, but then was afraid to climb down. She told everyone about all the critters she saw while sitting in that ol’ tree, lizards, birds, walking sticks, ants, a racoon walked by in the grass below, several squirrels were racing through the leaves, eating mangoes too.
The program was to last about thirty minutes. Everyone knows the attention span of children can be pretty short. But Ardele continued her story and now everyone was gathered around her. She was a natural storyteller, delivering elements of this adventure with a cadence and voice that drew everyone into that old tree with her.
When she told about the snake she had watched slithering under her tree, she almost hissed. Everyone pulled in their feet and took a deep breath.
She would point and ask questions, making everyone there a part of the story. It was long past the time when this event was supposed to be over when the activity coordinator came out onto the atrium with a plate heaping with mango slices and a pitcher of lemonade.
Ardele found her place in the universe that afternoon. Elders and children made friends and together they made a lifetime of memories. This was possible because we all got out of the way and let it happen. Ardele and the young boy whose name we have forgotten became the model for the rest of them. As the weekly visits continued others felt the freedom and confidence to share stories, make up imaginary adventures and bask in the warmth of new found friends.
But, we never did hear how she got out of that mango tree.
by Hank Bruce & Tomi Jill Folk, Petals & Pages Press, 2008
Ardele was born and raised in south Florida, but now she lived in a nursing home near Orlando. It’s sometimes very difficult when your health has declined, you have outlived most of your family. Sometimes you feel so alone. We were told by the lady at the desk, "The one in the wheelchair by the door, that’s Ardele, she’s got an attitude problem. Just between you and me, I don’t think she’s a good candidate for your kids project."
We were starting an intergenerational story swap program at "The Palms." It would involve some children from six to nine and about a dozen seniors. We looked at Ardele, sitting with a scowl on her face. A frown went from forehead to chin as she sat with arms crossed watching the children as they entered the lobby.
After the introductions, they all shared names no one would remember, and smiles that would be cherished for a lifetime. Everyone made their way out to the atrium where there was a fountain and a few trees, some flowers and several dancing butterflies. The first session is always a little difficult. Getting acquainted takes some time, then the magic can begin.
Many of the children had brought books to share and one of the gentlemen sat clutching a small CD player with a story he had recorded for his great grandson. The shyness soon dissolved into a joyful chaos of people talking, shaking hands, asking questions and becoming friends.
One of the elderly ladies pointed to a butterfly and started to tell a story from her childhood about how she rescued a big yellow butterfly from drowning. It seemed that everyone was talking, laughing, and listening as friendships grew. But Ardele sat, still scowling, all alone at the corner of all the activity.
A young boy was also standing alone watching several bees as they danced around the young mango tree in the planter beside Ardele. Finally he pointed to it and smiled a cautious smile as his eyes met Ardele’s. "Bees. Be careful, lady." he spoke so softly.
"Don’t be afraid. They make honey from the flowers," she said, as she lifted her head and the frown began to disappear.
The young fellow pondered this for a little bit, then spoke, "How?"
Ardele motioned for him to come closer, and he did. As she told him all about bees and honey and how they visit each flower and then find their way back to the hive and tell the other bees where to fine the nectar. The next time we glanced their way he was sitting on her lap and she was pointing out the deep burgundy new leaves on the young mango tree. Several other children were gravitating toward them, as were some of the elders.
She leaned forward and almost whispered, "Did ya ever get trapped in a mango tree?"
She went on to tell a story from her childhood, when she climbed a mango tree in a neighbor’s yard to get one of the fruit, but then was afraid to climb down. She told everyone about all the critters she saw while sitting in that ol’ tree, lizards, birds, walking sticks, ants, a racoon walked by in the grass below, several squirrels were racing through the leaves, eating mangoes too.
The program was to last about thirty minutes. Everyone knows the attention span of children can be pretty short. But Ardele continued her story and now everyone was gathered around her. She was a natural storyteller, delivering elements of this adventure with a cadence and voice that drew everyone into that old tree with her.
When she told about the snake she had watched slithering under her tree, she almost hissed. Everyone pulled in their feet and took a deep breath.
She would point and ask questions, making everyone there a part of the story. It was long past the time when this event was supposed to be over when the activity coordinator came out onto the atrium with a plate heaping with mango slices and a pitcher of lemonade.
Ardele found her place in the universe that afternoon. Elders and children made friends and together they made a lifetime of memories. This was possible because we all got out of the way and let it happen. Ardele and the young boy whose name we have forgotten became the model for the rest of them. As the weekly visits continued others felt the freedom and confidence to share stories, make up imaginary adventures and bask in the warmth of new found friends.
But, we never did hear how she got out of that mango tree.