The Old Man & The Garden

Dave and I live in what is called a Terraced House.  Picture a block with a long row of 100-year old red brick houses all connected to each other by the walls.  We live in the end terrace, so we not only get a nice view of the sunset and sunrise but also a (small) side yard.  All of the front “yards” (if you can call them yards…most people refer to them as gardens) are about 10 feet by 8 feet and are usually separated by four foot high brick walls.  Some people fill their spot with grass, others cement it over and put potted plants out, and still others place a large hydrangea or rose bush in the center to add some flair.  About half way down our terrace is an older man, I would presume to be in his 70’s, whose front garden is literally overflowing with blooming foliage.  He has somehow squeezed in three trees, a hedge with climbing flowers, and a plethora of potted flowers blooming throughout the seasons.  I love walking by his house as it is the most exciting one to walk past due to its variety of greenery.  He also tends to keep to himself, and whenever I do see him out and about he always has on his Gilligan’s Island style fishing hat, a non-descript tan jacket and carrying a partially full M&S shopping bag (M&S= Marks & Spencer’s, a large UK department store chain).  I have run into him early in the morning at St. George’s Market, late in the afternoons at the library, and walking by our house in the middle of day.  I always try to get his attention, to make eye contact with him at the very least.  Since we moved into our house on February 2^nd, I have been trying to get some sort of acknowledgement from our neighbor.  Just when I was starting to think that my attempts were all in vain, the heavens opened up and a miracle occurred.  One morning last week while Dave and I were walking by his house, he was walking into his front garden from the road and carrying to large bottles of water.  Not only did he nod his head at me, but he stopped and said, “I have some men coming to do work on my roof today and I thought I would leave them some water.”  I jumped at the opportunity to engage him in conversation, “Oh! How wonderful!” I said.  “By the way, we just love walking by your house - you have the loveliest garden.”  Instead of being able to take a compliment, he responded with “Eh, it’s overgrown and the vines shouldn’t be hanging into the sidewalk like they are.  And these flowers over here are droopy and need more water.”  I just smiled and said, “It all looks lovely.”  (I think he might have given me a partial smile as we walked away!)  Down the street, I said to Dave, “Okay.  I can now leave Northern Ireland, I got the old man to not only say hello but also participate in a conversation with me!”  I might not have formed a friendship for life with him (or even for the day) but I did find a small victory in that the old man who I had started to write off as not having a friendly bone in his body finally showed me otherwise.  This man gave me a refresher course in patience, reminding me that sometimes you have to wait, hard as that may be, for the desired reward.