Ann Scott

After her career with KSU Libraries, Ann opened a home garden nursery called, “Lee Creek Gardens” with her fellow coworker, John Johnson, and turned her attention to landscape planning and design. Along with this, Ann became a founding member in 2006 of the Kansas State Friends of the Garden Board. Within this group, the Garden Gala Fundraiser was created where she made sure to fulfill her role as the life of the party amongst other duties. Ann served as the president of the group from 2007-2008 and remained an active member from 2006 to 2018. “Lee Creek Gardens” continued until they officially retired the business in 2014. Ann spent the last part of her life together with her husband tending to the vast acre of garden eliminating the weed, “Creeping Charlie” and squishing plant-eating beetles between her fingers.

Ann Scott died at Stormont Vail Hospital on March 07 of 2023 at 80 years old after months of battling a rare form of Leukemia. She had been married to her husband for 58 years and had the wonderful opportunity of seeing her only daughter live a successful life and her granddaughter graduate from college. Ann Scott’s memorial will be held on Saturday, June 10th at the Scott residence as a celebration of life event. There will not be a funeral as that was not her wish. More details on the celebration of life event will be determined later in time.

Dave’s Personal Note:

I believe we were attached at the hip from the first time we met. Though we dated for 3 years before marrying, we knew we were together for a lifetime. For my part that lifetime wasn’t enough. Ann was the epitome of loyalty, truthfulness, integrity, intellect, and grammatical correctness. Her friends were naturally those that possessed the same assets. Our daughter and granddaughter have overwhelmingly adopted all of Ann’s nobility, not because they felt they had to, but because they wished to. Oh, the adventures we’ve had, the places we’ve been, the people we’ve met, and all that we accomplished together. It all was pure gold. I was most fortunate to be fiercely loved by her and it was my everlasting joy to match that love. God, I miss her.

Sweet dreams, love.

Kelley’s Personal Note:

My mom died, Tuesday, March 7th at 3:12pm in Stormont Vail Hospital. My dad, daughter, and I were there with her till the bitter end. I wouldn’t have wanted anything else either. I wanted to hold her and let her know that we were beside her and that it was okay to go to sleep. I miss my mom.

She made me promise this year that if anything happened to her, I would still get all the plants she ordered; taken care of, planted, and delivered. I was honoring this the other day when an unexpected visitor happened to stop by the greenhouse. A cardinal sat outside on a branch chatting away at me until I finally said aloud, “This is too soon, Mom.” I miss my mom.

I don’t have one perfect memory of my mom– I have many. It’s hard to focus on all the different characters she played in my life. She was fierce. She was loyal. She was funny. She was proud. She was independent. She was MY mom. I miss my mom.

As an only child, this is the moment you dread. Honestly, I have never dwelled on it until this cancer. My heart hurts knowing that I cannot talk to her every day. I am hurting knowing that my dad lost his best friend along with his wife. Although, I am consoled knowing that I have my dad and he’s going to get a lot of calls about nothing now. I miss my mom.

Cancer sucks! If you did not know it before, my mom had five types of cancer over her lifetime. It never consumed her. It never defined her. And really, until this last one, it never defeated her. She was a warrior. She was the most fabulous human that I could ever know. I love my mom.

Conor’s Personal Note:

In all honesty, I don’t want to be writing this. I don’t want to wear the necklace she never took off. I don’t want to wear her perfume. I don’t want to touch her garden because she should be here wearing her jewelry, smelling like her Chanel no. 5, and sitting in the garden complaining about how the weeds are worse than last year. I am not ready for the change. I am not ready to go out to my grandparents’ house and not hear her voice calling out politicians on the nightly news or to never hear her call my grandpa a “toad” during the game of train. I am not prepared for the physical absence nor was I for the emptiness in my heart.

I could write a book of funny stories, touching moments, things we did together, and how similar we were to each other, but this would frankly be too long. The memory I seem to cling to lately is watching her walk in the front door dancing to the music I had been playing while I cleaned—sometimes she would even start singing along.

My grandmother was a brilliant, funny, take-no-prisoners, and honest woman. If you were loved by Ann Scott, you knew it, and if you were not liked by Ann Scott, you also knew it. Although, to be loved by her was such a magical thing. For me, it was in small gestures, like getting packaged leftovers of dinner when I was low on money, but it was also in big gestures, like investing in me and my future. She was proud of me—I know that. She loved my writing and she boasted about the fact that I am in the helping field, but the affirmations do not make the grief any easier. I wish I could turn back time just to spend one more afternoon in the garden.

But for now, I will look for you in the flowers that bloom in the spring and summer. I will look for you in the cardinals that sing and the rays of the sun. I will wear your necklace to carry you with me through all my achievements as though you are walking with me.

I love you forever, and I am so sorry cancer stayed for the long run.

The Yorgensen-Meloan-Londeen Funeral Home, 1616 Poyntz Avenue, Manhattan, Kansas 66502, is assisting the family with service arrangements.