AN EARLY MORNING BREEZE dipped slender hibiscus branches beneath the kitchen window shade.

All of a sudden, two wide-eyed hibiscus flowers stared at me. With their slightly divergent nature, the blossoms reminded me of the eyepieces of WALL-E — the curious, tragic, trash-collecting-and-compacting robot, concocted by Disney to toil on an Earth without culture and humanity.

The hibiscus, however, was an organic reminder of a rich human presence in the world. Ten years ago, we transplanted several of the trees from the garden of my wife’s grandparents, Ethel and John, in the Cleveland suburb of Mentor, Ohio, to our side yard in Providence.

In Mentor, the hibiscus whips were weeds, offspring of larger trees around the home. Their planting in Providence transformed a formerly dusty, weedy strip into a 10-foot-tall, foliage-rich screen between our kitchen portal and the bathroom window of a neighbor.

Today, hundreds of flowers cover the hibiscus — spectacular deep-pink, dark-magenta-centered blossoms, with prominent pistils and stamens (reproductive organs of the flowers). Pollinating insects visit the blossoms all day.

Ethel and John, now 93 and 97, respectively, suggest flesh-and-bone versions of WALL-E and his robotic, love-interest, EVE.

As the Great Depression took hold, John wooed Ethel, and they have held hands since. After their marriage in 1933, it took John several years to find steady work, which he finally did in the steel mills of Ohio. Besides Ethel, his after-work passion became the garden.

John maintained lush backyard plots for more than 60 years. He and Ethel canned beans, peppers, peaches and other crops. John produced a range of wines such as apple, cherry, dandelion, grape, pear and plum. The family called him “the great gardener.”

The hibiscus flowers inspire awe. When my wife looks at them she sees her grandparents working together in the kitchen. I remember when I met John and Ethel almost 20 years ago.

It was Christmas Eve dinner on a bitter cold night in Mentor. Three generations of women were in the kitchen, preparing the traditional Hungarian dish of chicken paprikash.

Meanwhile, John took me to the basement, where he asked for “help,” “sampling” cherry and plum wine.

John removed two 10-year-old bottles from the lower drawer of a cabinet, opening their sealed contents for the first time. Smooth, fruity and high in alcohol content, the wine, plus the mouth-watering paprikash, surrounded by hand-made dumplings, helped me settle in as a very satisfied son-in-law to be.

In WALL-E, the two robots wander the debris of a long-gone civilization. Their only human connection comes from the videotape of a second-rate musical. When WALL-E finds a tender green seedling, the robots and remaining people, who are commanded by commerce and consumption, receive a second chance at life on Earth.

Compared to Disney’s view of the future, the narrative behind the hibiscus trees suggests happiness instead of misery, love versus control, and family instead of disaster.

We saw Ethel and John recently, and like WALL-E and EVE in the movie, they were holding hands.

Scott Turner is a Providence-based nature writer. His columns appear here each Saturday ( scottturnerster@gmail.com).