When I think of Spring I think of things blooming. I think back to picking yellow daffodils by the spring for mom and my grandmother. They let me know a new season had arrived. These beautiful flowers also make me think of people who are patient and have a kindred spirit. The time has come for those with the inclination and a green thumb to prepare for the upcoming year’s garden crop or their pretty flower beds.
Growing up in a rural community, I think gardening is in the water. There are generations of families living off the land. This is not about instant gratification, but reaping the benefits of your work in the long run. There is something rewarding in that. 
People who have a garden embrace this simple concept. My grandmother was my baby sitter when I was younger and I loved going to visit all of her country lady friends. They all had mega farms, gardens, flowers, land and when we came to visit them we never left empty handed- they shared their wealth in the form of “Garden Goodies.” My childhood was filled with so many awesome souls who taught me about sharing. I don’t know about you, but I love a gift from the heart and when someone gives you something that they made… or grew…. that is golden!
If you know me, you know I love, love, love where I come from! I love the people, the mountains, the river, and the simple ways of the people that live in my map dot town.
When I think of gardens I think of great men I am honored to know or have known for their works of art by their two hands and maybe some help from their children: my grandfather, my dad, and my dad’s friend, Gerald Austin.
Since he was a young boy growing up in Pico, a little community in Buchanan, Gerald Austin has had a garden. It was their livelihood. If he could pick it they preserved it. His parents would freeze it and can it to have in the winter. They only picked up a few things from the grocery store when they went, and they would trade their vegetables for eggs and bread from their neighbors. The garden kept food on his family table. Every year that passed he got out and planted, tilled, dug, picked, plowed, and sweat, to create his work of art. Sixty years later, Gerald still has a garden and he likes to experiment each year with something different. In the past, he has grown pop corn, which turned out really good! He said when he was younger you normally grew pop corn if you ate it. He has also grown eggplant, celery, and all types of tomatoes.
With a garden you have different times in which you plant your goodies. In his early crop, he has peas, onions, beets, radishes, cabbage, and lettuce. His summer garden has corn, green beans, squash, cuces, tomatoes, green peppers, broccoli, and cauliflower. Then he has a winter/fall garden with lettuces, turnips, and many other yummy veggies. Can we say Gerald’s Produce Stand?
Gerald often plants so much that he gives a lot of what the garden produces to his friends. His turnips are the best I have ever had. Both Gerald and my dad have masterpiece gardens. They are known for sitting on the deck of their houses with their shot guns– watching for ground hogs or any other garden eating varmint. Dad says, “That’s my food… not yours”. They could have their own reality TV show called “Guarding the Garden.” Move over Duck Dynasty, this would be reality at its best!
Not only does the garden provide food, it gets them outside, and gives them the peace of planting a seed to watch it produce something great. Gerald’s daughter, Michelle, and I like to kid each other about our dads’ passion and how they treasure their masterpieces.
Michelle says “I dug rows of potatoes every Labor Day until I moved away! In fact, Dad called me up here at work about three years ago and says, ‘Hey, what are you doing? I need you to come dig a row of potatoes.’ I said, ‘Dad, I’m kinda working.’ He said, ‘Ok. Just come when you get off work.’ At 42 years old, I’m still digging.”
She went on to say that, all kidding aside; gardeners take a lot of pride in their work. Their patience and commitment is rewarded with fruits of the earth. In addition to the science involved, it requires blessings that they can’t control, such as a well-timed rain from God. In return these gardeners pass on the blessings by sharing with others. So, gardening is really a life lesson. These gardeners exemplify the good qualities of being good neighbors. I say a big southern Baptist AMEN!!!
My dad’s passion for growing things was also passed on from his father, Andrew Lee “Buster” Brugh. I was only four years old when he passed, and I wish I would have had more years getting to know him. As I grow older, I am learning to know the man that so many loved through stories from my family.
He wanted everyone to be a gardener – regardless if you had the green thumb or not- and he was very passionate about helping you in any way he could.
“Buster” Brugh
Buster was a man that loved the Lord, his family, gardening and treating land with respect. He worked at Agnew Seed Store downtown for years, and then he went on his own and started a seed store in the old Walnut Train Station here in Roanoke. It was called B & B Garden Center.
Being a nostalgic person I treasure anything that belonged to him. My treasures that he owned are few. I have a book of poems that belonged to him, his business card, his ginormous mail box (that I display in my house), a plaque with a poem he wrote, and one family picture of all of us. After all these years, I feel as if I am connecting with him in a very spiritual kind of way.
Brugh Mailbox
I reached out to my family to tell me what they remember about our Master Gardener Grandfather… sit back and enjoy:
My brother, Jamey and our cousin, Chad, went with Papaw just about every Saturday to his store. They spent most of their time playing out by the rail road tracks and underneath the bridge. They found all kinds of rail road stuff. Then, they had lunch at the Roanoke Weiner Stand. By the time they came home, they were filthy.
Chad remembers, “We would go in back room and build forts out of the boxes of empty cans used for canning. Papaw also had this old type of cash register that he would let us play on. It had a bunch of numbers on top with a lever on right side. We would take a break from getting into trouble and eat with the guys working on the railroad since it ran right behind store. They had a office or break room on back side of store.”
My cousin, Evie, says, “I remember the Saturdays that I got to go to the [seed store] with Papaw. I was not very old and I didn’t go often so it was special. We would drive into Roanoke and eat breakfast at some diner. Then we would go into the store. I was much too young to work the cash register but I would ‘dust’ the shelves. This was not productive because it was a garden store – but I was helping so I was thrilled. To this day, the smell of fertilizer will always remind me of Papaw because that’s how his store smelled.”
“He was the original environmentalist. Papaw had a black station wagon and he would put the tailgate down. [My cousins] and I would sit on the tailgate while he slowly drove down route 642 when it was a narrow dirt road. We would spot some trash and yell for him to stop [so we could pick it up]. He loved doing that and we loved doing it with him.”
Buster lives on in the seeds he planted in our hearts and in the land around us. I love admiring the tree that he and my dad planted in the front yard at our home place. I feel connected to him as I watch it grow bigger each year. I also have many wonderful memories playing under the magnolia tree he planted at Mill Creek Baptist Church. Before it was burned, my cousin Chad was able to salvage enough to make my dad and two aunts a keepsake that he engraved and gave to them at Christmas.
If he were here today I would thank him for buying the land on Route 642 for his family, thus giving me the greatest childhood a little country belle could ever dream of. The land he bought in Fincastle where four generations of Brugh’s have spent their spare time hunting and making memories with each other.
As I reflect on all these things, I am glad my dad had a garden. I’m thankful for the time I spent with him learning to grow things. It was not what I wanted to do back then, but I am thankful for the experience.
While on a Chefs’ Tasting Tour in Charleston, SC this summer, I heard one of the chefs say, with conviction, “Farmers are souls to the Earth.” This tugged on my heart strings because of my own memories of those who taught me so much about the importance of planting, nurturing, and sharing with others.
As we greet spring…..Get out and sow your seeds. Get your hands dirty and watch something grow. Most importantly, remember as you plant: farmers are the souls to the Earth.