Read by Matilda Longbottom

The story of the Gardens of Happiness began when we moved into a charming home in California nestled in a safe, welcoming neighborhood. To my delight, the backyard revealed a hidden treasure: a cinder-block walled garden. Three grand trees anchored its corners—a towering avocado tree in the far left back, a fruitful apricot tree in the rear right, and a plum tree in the front right corner.

Unable to reach the avocados on the lofty tree, I lined the garden floor with straw to cushion their fall. This clever trick kept them bruise-free, and soon, I was lugging brown paper bags full of avocados to share with my coworkers. At home, we indulged in guacamole and marveled at the blessing of this once-bare garden that now promised a fruitful bounty.

I eagerly transformed the garden’s center into a design I’d admired in a gardening magazine—a wagon wheel. Each spoke became a row of lettuce, radishes, herbs, and other low-growing vegetables. Garlic and green onions bordered the design, while zucchini plants quietly thrived in a forgotten corner.

One day, as I inspected the garden, I discovered a gargantuan zucchini—more than two-feet long! I cradled it like a baby and carried it to the kitchen, where I halved it, scooped out the seeds, and crafted a Southern-inspired stuffing of ground beef, cornbread, onions, garlic, and spices. Topped with cheese and baked to perfection, the stuffed zucchini joined a crisp salad for dinner.

But the most magical memory from this garden came one Easter morning. With a young daughter still enchanted by the Easter Bunny, I hid candies beneath the garden’s leafy greens and hung her Easter basket from a tree limb. To this day, she calls me the “Eater Bunny.”

Eventually, life shifted, and after a divorce, I moved back East to be with my children, bringing a new spouse into our family. But the joy of gardening wasn’t left behind—it flourished anew with the arrival of two granddaughters.

The Second Garden of Happiness

With the birth of my granddaughters, McKenzie and Shaylee, the second Garden of Happiness blossomed. These spirited “garden babies” each claimed their own little patch. McKenzie, meticulous and determined, grew green beans that fed us daily. Meanwhile, imaginative Shaylee planted colored stones and fragments of a broken bracelet.

When Shaylee’s plot yielded no plants, I decided to spark her joy with a little garden magic. One evening, I gathered twigs and adorned them with the stones and bracelet pieces using a glue gun. The next morning, Shaylee’s “stone flowers” had miraculously bloomed. Her wide-eyed wonder and exclamation, “I can’t beweive it!” remain one of my most cherished memories.

This second garden also became an Easter haven, much like the first. I sewed matching dresses and tote bags, which I hung alongside robes and pajamas from the fig tree branches. Beneath the tree, cushioned with straw, my granddaughters picnicked, played, and sometimes napped. Their Easter baskets, hidden under vegetables, awaited discovery as they delighted in the festive garden created just for them.

A Legacy of Love and Laughter

Looking back, these two gardens were far more than plots of earth—they were havens of love, laughter, and growth. From avocado-laden trees to “stone flower” magic, the gardens cultivated memories that remain etched in my heart. McKenzie and Shaylee, my dear “ButtZelda” and “ButtElla,” you’ve blessed me in countless ways. These gardens—and the happiness we sowed together—will forever be part of our story. ❖

About the Author: Mo Pascoe–Hoyal is a published writer, songwriter, avid gardener, and lifelong equestrian residing in Central Louisiana. Despite facing various challenges, including disabilities from multiple accidents, Mo remains an ardent advocate for growth and resilience. Inspired by the spirit of aloha and the beauty of nature, she continues to find solace and joy in the art of gardening.