For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved flowers, gardens, and everything about being outside in the yard. Some of my earliest and fondest memories are from summers in Ohio—watching fireflies dance through the twilight and listening to my grandmother talk about the red birds and her deep love for roses. Not the kind you cut and put in a vase, but the ones that belonged in the soil, thriving in the open air.
She had roses before there were “knock-outs” or any kind of guaranteed-to-bloom varieties. Her garden was alive—with color, with movement, with intention. And even at six years old, she was teaching me lessons that only come from putting your hands in the dirt.
Just this past week, a memory surfaced I hadn’t thought of in years: in 1981, my grandmother was recognized by the Mansfield Men’s Garden Club. Her yard was selected as one of five homes to receive their Residential Beauty Award. That small detail from decades ago suddenly meant so much more to me.
Her yard wasn’t “native” in the way we talk about sustainable landscaping today, but looking back, I realize she was quietly ahead of her time. She had very little lawn. Instead, her small downtown plot was overflowing with plants from spring to fall—a true living canvas. She embraced the wildlife that visited and did what she could to support it. Birds, butterflies, bees—she welcomed them all.
Today, as I walk through my own pollinator garden, I’m continually amazed by the life it holds: bees of all kinds, wasps, monarchs, queens, and black-winged butterflies fluttering from bloom to bloom. In those quiet moments, I feel her presence—and her influence—so clearly.
She taught me to appreciate not just the beauty of a garden, but the entire ecosystem it supports. And that appreciation continues to shape how I tend to my own little patch of earth.
If you’ve ever felt that connection—to a place, a plant, or a person who helped you grow—We’d love to hear your story or help share your legacy in Wild One’s South Central Texas.