Sometimes the people who are hard to love make the biggest impressions. On my post someone said my Nana seemed warm, but she wasn't at all. Still, she made a huge impression on me and I loved her.
The thought of the root cellar filled with hedgerow wines and the lake seems so romantic. What a shame they didn't work out. Poor Jane - she clearly made her own bed but everyone needs love.
What a wonderfully written memory. Like @alt3r, you put the reader right inside it - we can smell the soil, the grit of dirt under our fingernails.
I'd like to think I could be someone's influential relative, but so far I have a son who hates gardening and my seven month old grandson is too young to brainwash quite yet.
Honestly, I didn't garden for veggies for decades afterwards. Flowers, yes. Lots of perennial flowers, but veggies? None. I used to gift Aunt Jane shrubs and perennials, or prints of flowers. She heeded the happiness. And boy did she ever love getting presents. So the point here is that there is still hope for your son. And grandson.
The place, now that I have a larger share in its ownership, is not so romantic anymore. It's been neglected so long I think I will go broke just trying to keep the house standing and the buckthorn at bay. She did a lot of the manual labor while she lived there, until she died at the age of 90. Now I have to do it!
Oh! I just remembered! One of the last things she said to me was "I just want you to love the place." I guess I am carrying out her last wish.