There’s a Greek Proverb about forward thinking..
“A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they shall never sit in.”
unknown, Greek proverb
When I was young I grew up in many different countries, because my dad’s job required him to take up a new posting every third year. Just as we were starting to refer to our new country as ‘home’, we would find ourselves uprooted again, onto a new continent, with a new language, new faith system, new foods we had never heard of, and a new school. The move would always be an easy transition for my brother and I, who had never known any different, and quickly made friends with local children our age. Our dad would be immersed into his new position at the company, and his work colleagues would ensure he settled quickly. But our mother, who had grown up in just one house in England, found it more challenging. She would throw herself into charity work, join the PTA, and the local bridge club. But the temporary nature of the post bothered her. She developed coping mechanisms to keep her going through the state of impermanence, until such a time that we would be able to finally return to England, and buy a house that was ours to keep.
No matter which country we were in, our mother would retain certain rituals that she had enjoyed whilst growing up. At four o’clock, afternoon tea, served in china cups and saucers, with home-baked cakes and scones, would be laid on a tray. At bed time, there would be a cold glass of milk, and the Lord’s Prayer at the foot of the bed. On Sundays we would routinely visit church in the morning, and tuck into a large roast lunch in the afternoon, followed by a long walk with the dogs. She never said it, but I assume these things helped my mother feel like we were living a ‘normal’ life in a foreign land. Whilst she always encouraged learning about the exciting new cultures that we were exposed to, I suppose our mother needed to hold onto certain things that kept her grounded.
One of these things was gardening. Our mother was a keen gardener, and still is. Like her father before her, she’ll probably still be gardening long after she is able to drive. Back in our days of travel, our mother would make the very best of whatever garden she was given, whether a tiled urban courtyard, or a stepped expanse of African grassland. At the weekends, she would put on her gloves and head scarf, and announce “I’m just popping into the garden”. My brother and I knew she was off to her happy place, and we didn’t get too much involved, something that I now regret. What always amazed me was that by time we were due for another move, our mother had transformed the place. Tropical flowers of every colour would bloom under trees that were getting ready to bear exotic and edible fruits. As a child, I couldn’t understand why anyone would plant a tree that we wouldn’t get to taste the fruits of. If we had stayed in these houses, we would have enjoyed gardens dripping with fruit, even had leftovers to share. All these years later, I wonder who is enjoying the large avocados from the trees my mother planted in Kenya, or the scores of bananas she left behind in Venezuela. If it didn’t start a cottage industry or raise the house value, it will certainly have left an impression on the folks who have since visited the house. “Have you ever seen such a collection of lychees?” they will exclaim, “How wonderful that someone had the foresight to plant all these trees!” They won’t know to mention my mother’s name, of course, but she undoubtedly left her mark on those gardens.
Planting trees on your property is like planting a little bit of your own immortality. The ones that bear fruit are the ones that give back the most. My childhood is full of great memories because our mother planted some trees, and I’m still talking about it today. Now that I am grown, and have a home on the beach in the Caribbean, I may be limited to what will grow in salty sand, but I find that the coconut trees I plant are thriving. One day we might have coconuts to feed the entire neighbourhood. I certainly hope so.
