My Grandmama Eddie,
before alzheimers

Several years ago I flew down to Louisiana (where I was born) to design and help build a garden for my Grandmama Eddie and Aunt Judy.   I had only the weekend to do it in, but when we had finished, we had made an enormous difference.   My Grandma (like many Alzheimers patients) was living at home at the time with my Aunt as the primary caretaker.
Plants were out of the question, as Judy was already over-loaded with care-taking duties.

The main considerations were to make sure that Grandma could walk outside without tripping, clearing a good path for her feet.   She was dragging her foot quite a bit, and this is important to think about in designing a garden for older people.   Their needs in a path are greatly different from the usual.   Gravel would have been very difficult for her to walk on, bark too, so we settled on clearing the already compacted Louisiana soil and making a clear path for her to walk on edged in the hundreds (!) of rocks that she had been collecting for years.

She also needed a bench to sit on, so we bought a nice bench and flanked it with a pot on each side filled with a tall evergreen shrub surrounded with annuals so that they could both have color and a few flowers right away, but it would still look nice in the winter.
We planted a few camillias in the garden, but kept new plantings to a minimum for Judy's sake.   It's vital to take the needs of the caretaker into consideration, for they also live in the house, and will be the one to look after things long after the design is finished and you've gone home.

Finally, we added a fountain under the huge Live Oak tree.   Grandma had taken to collecting rocks - not special rocks as she had done all her life, but regular rocks that she had gotten from the driveway.   Many alzheimers patients do this.   She would get very upset with Judy if Judy would attempt to throw them out, so they had shelves full of rocks.   Rocks lined the hallway.   Rocks everywhere! Judy's main request was something to do with all those rocks, and the fountain was perfect.   All around the base were the larger, less decorative stones, and in the fountain itself was the spot for "special rocks", extra-pretty little ones that needed an extra good spot.   Judy said that this one thing made the most difference in their everyday lives.
This one weekend with it's few changes added a lot of pleasure to the remaining years that Grandma was able to live in her house.   It was very different from the kind of work I normally do, at the time I was working exclusively in the wealthy community of Medina, Washington - a world away from small town Louisiana, and a world away from designing for a person with limited mobility and brain function.
I loved it.

Designing for Alzheimers patients is a lot like designing for children.   You have to take safety first - falling is a major problem.   Eating poisonous plants is another danger.   Also making sure that they are secure and won't wander away.
Like children, they love beauty and have a deep need for it.   More than the rest of us, because they cannot get out on their own to find beauty elsewhere, or even remember beautiful things they have seen.
All they have is what is right in front of them.

The best part of the weekend?   Finishing up and showing her what we had done -
"Oh MY!!   Who did that!!?"   "It's so pretty!   Beautiful!"   "Thank-you baby!"
and five minutes later, she looked out the door again and with complete surprise and wonder...
"Oh MY!!   Who did that!!?"   "It's so pretty!   Beautiful, beautiful!"   "Thank-you sweet baby!"
It went on all night and the next morning.

How many times does life give us the chance to give someone we love a delightful, beautiful surprise over and over again with one act of kindness?

Healing Gardens - My stroke garden

I am currently in the middle of trying to build my "stroke garden".   Actually, we're re-doing the entire front - so I'll keep you updated as to any major discoveries.

The first one?
Pace yourself and get help.   Wait until you're well enough (or the patient is well enough) to even consider it.   Don't force them to make any decisions before they are ready.   Even sorting socks made me cry at first.   It was so HARD!

Next?
Privacy is super important.   More than ever.   I've read now that many stroke survivors feel this way.   It's not exactly like being afraid to leave the house, but it's the second-cousin of that feeling.   On a good day you want to see some people, but on a bad day you don't want to see anyone and you don't want anyone to see you.   It's easy to get trapped in the house that way.   A garden to sit in so that you're getting fresh air and sunshine, but that is private enough that neighbors can't see you sitting there motionless or worse, trembling would be wonderful.
Lots of benches and seats.
Few things to trip on.
Water to stare at - still water.
And a flat place to do your exercises in peace outside.
All on the wish list.

I'll let you know how it comes along.   My wonderful partner Michael is helping me to make it a reality.