When our neighbors bought the house next door nearly a decade ago, my parents quickly provided an account of this couple as if in warning. My folks were “in the know” because the new home owners were relocating from the townhouse development in which they lived just a half-mile away. Apparently this couple received multiple citations from the HOA because their landscaping did not conform to the neighborhood standards.
Curious, my husband Tim and I drove past their townhouse to investigate. We spotted their property easily in the middle of cookie-cutter lawns and hedge rows. The planting beds had been enlarged and were profuse with multi-hued blooms. Ceramic pots were situated beside the front door and within the beds, and these, too, were spilling over with flowers and foliage. While this design deviation brought a grimace to the neighbors’ faces, it brought a grin to ours. We can appreciate a rebel spirit.
Imagine our surprise on moving day to meet the new neighbors—a kind, elderly couple…he, friendly and soft spoken; she, petite and shy. Not exactly the rebels we had pictured. Within a week, Michael and Hyunh could be seen working in their front yard. Michael created a large planting bed around a towering pine tree and another bed around the mailbox, and Hyunh set to work planting shrubs and flowers. She didn’t appear to have a landscape design, just an artistic vision in her head.
Soon, river rocks of varying sizes created borders to the beds; different colored ceramic pots were nestled within them, containing vibrant flowering annuals; and a weathered wrought iron bench was added too. Then, one day a young man appeared with some lumber, and by the day’s end, a large cross was erected in front of the pine tree.
Many days Hyunh would disappear into the landscape as she sat on a low stool to dig in the dirt or pull weeds. The only way we knew she was out there was the music that drifted our way from a small transistor radio she kept beside her playing hymns and other worship music.
One day Tim wandered over to admire her garden, and he found her small frame perched on the stool. She paused her work to chat with him, and when he inquired about her garden, she told him her story…
Hyunh was born in Vietnam and grew up in a landscape of constant danger and continuous conflict. Approximately two million civilians were killed during the Vietnam War, including Hyunh’s closest relatives. As a girl, she inconceivably watched as most of her family was killed by soldiers. We are unclear how Hyunh survived; however, she quickly, quietly, told Tim that her family’s execution haunts her still.
“I suffer from PTSD,” she softly explained. “Gardening is the only thing that calms my nerves and brings me any peace.”
Tim walked away from their conversation seeing her garden in a new light. He shared her story with me, and I, too, began to view her garden with deeper understanding, tender mercy, and profound admiration for the petite woman stooped over her plants.
As I watched her tend to a seedling, I became aware she was also tending to her own tormented thoughts and hurting heart.
Brené Brown writes, “Everyone has a story or a struggle that will break your heart. And, if we’re really paying attention, most people have a story that will bring us to our knees.” Hyunh and her garden invited me to pay closer attention.
Recently I read about a distant friend who just completed the six World Marathon Majors. As I read the details of his accomplishment, I felt prompted, “Pay attention.” I noticed the year he began running—a year after his teenage son died by suicide. This man has sought solace through running; Hyunh has pursued peace through gardening. Knowing their stories compels me to look at their efforts through a new lens, and it transforms what I see.
Over the years Michael and Hyunh’s garden has continued to expand and grow. Planting beds have nearly overtaken their front yard, and established shrubs and perennials flourish in all seasons. The wooden cross still stands, weathered and darkened by age. Their wild landscape stands out on our tidy cul-de-sac, frequently eliciting double takes from visitors to our house. Quite often they’ll make a remark about the neighbor’s yard, and when they do, we tell them Hyunh’s story. We hope to reframe how they see her garden, inviting them to shift from judgment to appreciation, from mocking to mercy, from wonder to awe.
I wish they could see the petite elderly woman seated on her garden stool, for such a sight could not fail to evoke tenderness and admiration. However, Hyunh has become too frail to tend her garden. Now, on warm days she can be seen sauntering down her driveway with the help of a walker. She slowly surveys her yard as Michael stands by her side. I watch her with the hope that her garden’s beauty continues to bring her a sense of peace and calm. As I look at her garden, I remember the importance of paying attention and the honor of knowing someone’s story.
Weekly Editor
Susan Tucker is a lifelong lover of story, and with curiosity and openness, she often explores in her writing the tension that life holds. A former English teacher, Susan loves meaningful use of language, especially when used to stir the soul and whet one’s appetite for more truth, goodness, and beauty. Compelled by a burgeoning interest in trauma recovery, she pursued training at The Allender Center, completing the Certificate in Narrative Focused Trauma Care, Level I and Level 2. Susan and Tim, her husband of 30 years, are the parents of two sons, now young adults, and are adjusting to a nest that, while different, is far from empty.nbsp
Thank you for sharing your experience and Hyunhs’ story; your way with words makes this story easy to imagine. As an avid gardener myself, I have told people that it is a place of refuge for me; therapy through plants. My neighbors appreciate the beauty as they walk by, I don’t know if they realize what it does for me.
This piece touches me on many levels, Susan, mostly because of your call to our hearts, minds, and perspectives: “We hope to reframe how they see her garden, inviting them to shift from judgment to appreciation, from mocking to mercy, from wonder to awe.”
May we all make such a shift, one that allows us to see people beyond surface actions. Thank you.
I love this story. From a place where her gardening skills were demeaned or “not allowed” to a place where they were appreciated for their beauty and her heart. And I love that you could see her for herself. Beauty and pain intermixed. So many live in this contradiction without knowing how to deal with it.
Thank you for your heart.