Granny Ruth’s Remarkable Garden Gate

A story about memory, family and how we keep the past alive.

Granny Ruth’s house was at the end of Banksia Lane, and it had the most remarkable gate. It was made of ten wooden planks, and every plank had been painted a different colour, with a little picture on it.

Imogen came to visit her grandmother every Sunday, and every Sunday, she looked at the gate. “What does the yellow one mean?” she asked one afternoon. Granny Ruth smiled. “Come and sit with me, and I will tell you.”

“The yellow plank has a sunflower,” said Granny. “Your grandfather and I grew those in our very first garden. They were as tall as the fence, and the birds loved them.” Imogen traced the petals with her finger.

The blue plank had a little boat. “That is from the summer we sailed to the island,” said Granny. “Your mother was five, and she wore a big yellow hat. She dropped it in the water, and we had to paddle in circles to fish it out.”

The red plank had a bicycle. The green one had a tiny cat. The purple one had a piano. Each was a memory, and Granny told them all, one Sunday at a time. Imogen listened with her chin on her hands.

One afternoon, Imogen noticed an empty plank at the end of the row. It was plain, with no colour, and no picture at all. “What is that one for?” she asked. Granny winked. “That one is for you.”

Imogen thought hard about what to paint. At last, she chose a picture of the two of them, sitting on the garden bench, eating the banana cake that Granny made every Sunday. She painted it in orange and brown.

When it dried, Granny Ruth hung the plank on the gate. It looked exactly right. Imogen stepped back and smiled. Now she was a part of the gate’s story, and the gate was a part of hers.

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