Q is for Quarreling

I have repeatedly mentioned how my father is the one who got me started in gardening. When I was a kid, I felt like his yard was a wonderland. I would spend hours outside playing amongst his plants. I loved to watch him plant, but was very rarely allowed to assist. If I did help, I had to follow very specific instructions. Dad's flowerbeds needed to be precisely what he had in mind. Looking back now, I realize that he had to have a manicured look out front, because it was the front of our home and my parents' business.

When I started to do my own gardening, I listened very carefully to what he had to say. Then, I started to branch out a bit. Dad would come over and make his suggestions. We would quarrel a little bit.

When he started to get sick, he often wanted me to come help work in his yard. The quarreling continued. I would help to fix something in a flowerbed or in a pot and he wouldn't like the way it was. As I continued to develop in my own gardening skills, though, he eventually realized that I knew what I was doing. He began to trust my ideas and knowledge.

Now I basically have carte blanche to do what is necessary in his yard to make it look nice. I often try to get his approval before I add something new. We definitely quarrel less about it.