My great grandfather “retired” in his seventies to pursue his hobby of gardening. He soon became known around our small town as the pansy man. Before large nurseries and greenhouses were common, my Granddad built his own greenhouse from glass he had collected for many years. He cut and assembled his glasshouse using his own design. No kits were available at the time, and he would not have used one anyway.
Up popped vibrant seedlings that first spring, and Granddad made a crude sign announcing pansy plants and situated it at the entrance of the alleyway beside his house. The sign happened to be only one block from a giant electronics plant and soon Granddad had more customers than he had anticipated.
Word spread that this “nice old gentleman’ or “the pansy man” sold the healthiest plants at a bargain price, What began as only a pansy plant business quickly blossomed into selling vast varieties of flowers and summer vegetable plants.
So much for being retired, as people from several counties flocked to pick up their spring and summer plantings. When I was ten, Granddad asked if I would like to help work that summer in the hothouse. I was elated with my duties of helping to pick the plants, package them in wet newspaper, and take the customer’s money. 1 learned that he charged little and always gave every customer a baker's dozen. If any plants died, he would replace them for nothing. I helped for another couple of summers, but as my youth progressed to more mature leanings, working in the greenhouse lost its appeal, and Granddad had to go it alone. He pursued his hobby until he had a stroke at age 88 After his death the next year, the fate of the greenhouse loomed. My great grandmother was 85, and could not continue the business, and sadly, everyone else in the family was busy with their own vocations. His love for plants and his kindness, hard work, and honesty are an inspiration to me to this day. over time the fragile panes of glass cracked and shattered, and eventually the greenhouse was razed. As T watched, I shed many tears of sadness and joy. Sadness over seeing my granddad’s work demolished, but joy that T was able to share those few years working with him.