On the way to our favourite local coffee shop, an old cypriot man lived in a garden full of fruit trees – lemons, cumquats, and oranges. His name was Ioannis (pronounced Yannis).
Whenever we passed Ioannis and he was in his front garden (either having a smoke or tending to the trees) we’d have a short chat. Depending on the time of year, he’d offer us some lemons, “These are sweet, you can eat them like fruit,” he’d say. They weren’t sweet, of course, they were just a different type of lemon called Meyer, but his optimism was lovely.
One particular morning, sunny but cool in that very Melbourne way, Ioannis was talking to me about his joy of gardening.
As we got to know Ioannis more, we learned that he had only recently lost his wife of 40 years, but still got up every day for his fruit trees, coffee, and always with a smile. Occassionally, we’d see him at the local market or out and about in the community – buying a new plant from the nursery or having a coffee with friends.
Shortly after this conversation with Ioannis, we stopped bumping in to him. I just assumed it was serendipity – I changed my regular coffee routine, he changed his. But then, a few weeks later, we walked past his house to find a “For Auction” sign attached to his wall – it’s not likely he went to a nursing home.
I still walk passed Ioannis’ now-sold house. The new people haven’t moved in yet so his fruit trees are still there and laden with fruit – I’ll be surprised if it stays this way. But, no matter what happens to that house on the corner, it’s likely I’ll always remember that if I’ve got some fruit trees, good coffee, and a smile, I’ll live a happy life.
My experience so far shows that Ioannis is on to something. Now, it’s time to plant my fig and lemon trees in the the front garden.