In Loving Memory: Bob Stadnyk
Joe Gadbois, August 29, 2024
It feels surreal to be writing this.
I met Bob when I was 11 years old. When I was young, I didn’t think much about mortality or what it would feel like to lose mentors and loved ones when I got older. When you are young, you think of the older people in your life – mentors, parents, older siblings and the like – as immortal; you just expect that they will always be there.
I will always remember going to Hole’s as a kid. In those days, the world was smaller, both in terms of my interpretation of it, and literally in the sense that we didn’t have the same infrastructure that we have now in the Edmonton area. It was probably an hour drive to get to Hole’s from where I grew up in Edmonton, so convincing my mom to take me there was not always easy. It was not a place we shopped at until I developed my obsession with lady’s slippers. My brain associates trips to Hole’s in the spring of 2002 and 2003 with “Soak Up the Sun” by Sheryl Crow, which must have been on the radio a lot at the time. The memories are warm – if I stop for a moment, I can clearly picture the tall red-brown fence encircling the outdoor perennials area, parking in front of it and peeking through the spaces between the boards to see what was on the other side, then practically dashing into the store and through the greenhouse into the perennials section, my mother left behind.
It was impossible for Bob not to notice this young kid coming in with his mom and darting straight to all the rarest plants he had laboured to bring in. I remember him telling me early on that I had good taste. I knew it. It was always very important to Bob to get young people into gardening. It didn’t matter if it was rare perennials or tropicals or vegetables or what kind of plants, he just understood that if we don’t actively try to engage young people in this fundamental art and science, then not only are our industry and hobby doomed, but we as a civilization have a bleak future. But undoubtedly it excited him to see kids interested in the stranger side of the plant world, as that was his province.
The first of many times that Bob said to me, “You need this”, I was probably about 14 or 15, and I had come into the store looking for lady’s slippers and other things of the like as usual. He caught me and beckoned me over to the vine section. At the time I couldn’t care less about vines. He showed me Clematis alpina ‘Stolwijk Gold’, an alpine clematis with gold leaves and blue flowers. I remember thinking to myself, “I don’t care about clematis!”, but I never forgot that plant, and when I started buying perennials for Greenland 10 years later, it was near the top of my list of clematis that I knew we had to have. Today it’s one of my favourites. Bob knew how to recognize a good plant, and he made sure to let others know about it.
At 14, I got a Saturday job to finance my plant hobby and other things teenagers like to spend money on. I started taking the commuter bus so I no longer had to rely on my mom to take me to Hole’s – now, my trips could be more frequent, but I could also carry far less with me back home! Through Bob, I developed a keen interest in alpine plants in addition to my interest in orchids and woodlanders. This also expanded to peonies, lilies, Irises… and many other plants. Each winter I looked forward to the release of Lois’ Spring Gardening Magazine, which included the listings of all the plants they would have available in the upcoming spring. It also included interesting articles, some of which were written by Bob. I have a collection of these magazines to this day, which I still reference sometimes. They are physical memories of the excitement the perennial world had at that time – excitement that Bob played a big part in. Everyone in the industry knew and respected Bob. He was the Perennial Baron. He was self-taught but he was a walking encyclopedia of plants to the very end. And he knew every detail of every perennial that can be grown in our area.
After I finished high school and started university, I had to get a full-time summer job, and I wanted it to be at a garden centre. Hole’s and Greenland were my top two choices, and I applied at both. Greenland hired me before Hole’s called me for an interview, and as much as I wanted to work with Bob, I felt since I had accepted a job at Greenland, I should politely decline the interview at Hole’s. I knew something was going on at Hole’s because the plant selection had been dwindling more and more each year, but I had no idea just what was happening behind the scenes. After a couple years of working in the Trees & Shrubs area at Greenland, I started helping out part-time in Perennials, and I remember Jillian MacPhee (who was working in Perennials at the time) was telling me she hoped Bob would come to Greenland. Jillian had worked with Bob back in the days when I first met him (or even before). By this point it was around 2010 or 2011. I said, “No way!”. But suddenly, Staff Orientation for a new year came and there was Bob sitting in the audience with me! I was gobsmacked. That’s when everything changed for me. Greenland was a summer job for me until that point. It took a couple more years, but eventually I came to feel that Greenland was the place I needed to be. Bob was a big part of that – I just felt like it had to be a sign that we were somehow in the same place together.
The management at Greenland didn’t know where to put Bob at first – he could have fit in almost anywhere. As fate would have it, I ended up running the Perennials department and Bob became a manager in the Annuals area, and very quickly essentially created a Tropicals department for Greenland. I always felt guilty about being in Perennials as I knew that was Bob’s true passion. He helped me immensely in finding sources for perennials, and today I owe my two biggest and most important sources to him. I included Bob in my plans as much as possible. We went on trips to nurseries and private gardens in Alberta sourcing plants, and he introduced me to plant people he knew. I also helped out in his area during the off-season, and those are some of the fondest memories I have with him, especially when we would geek out over tropicals. Bob recognized my expertise in orchids and carnivorous plants, and he was happy to include me in ordering those plants. We were a team.
Bob’s garden was and is a living representation of his life’s work. The plants in that garden hold the memories of people Bob respected that passed on before him, countless stories he told me over the years. I can never be the people person that Bob was, but I recognize that gardening is as much about the people as it is about the plants. It’s about good memories, love, sweat, blood, tears, and personal connections with other human beings. It’s about nature and meditation and harmony. I see a spider in my yard now and I am reminded of how Bob used to always tell me that having spiders in your yard is a sign that you have a healthy ecosystem. I am fortunate to have many plants in my yard that came from Bob’s yard, or that I otherwise have directly because of Bob, and so I cannot be in my yard without being reminded of him. In that way I know that he is still with me – and always will be.
Rest in peace Bob. Thank you for so many years of lessons and laughs. I will never forget them, or you.