366 Days of Writing Prompts – Day 105
Pause whatever you’re doing, and ask the person nearest you
what they’re thinking about (call someone if you have to).
Write a post based on it.
Will it be warm enough today to do some tilling? My father’s first thought before coffee and the news. He enjoys gardening, jut like his mother before him. He instills in us the need to grow our own food, to keep our small lot of land fertile (ashes from the wood burning stove and compost), and to plant just at the right time so that we don’t lose crops to the frost. It’s been colder than normal here this April. By this time last year, he’d already tilled the garden areas and had them ready for planting. Yesterday was the first day of tilling, but it was very cold last night and there was a frost warning. He won’t be planting anytime soon, but he will till the land.
We’ve always had a vegetable garden, from back as far as my memory will stretch. Dad grows tomatoes, bell peppers, cucumbers, green beans, potatoes (down at my uncle’s farm), jalapeno peppers (a newer addition since my brother moved in), squash and zucchini (additions since I moved in), a variety of lettuces, green and red cabbage, and butternut squash. Our back and side yards teem with plants every Spring. I remember mother canned the tomatoes and pickled the cucumbers and green beans. We had salads all summer. Dad covered the potatoes and butternut squash with hay in bins under the front porch. They would last us most of the winter.
There is something poetic about the relationship between a gardener and his/her garden. Ancient verse and songs have been written about it. It is still a favored theme today. I guess it is the beauty of it and the hard sweat, the toiling and harvest. When I watch dad in the garden, I know he and the land are poetry in motion, creating their own epic poem. And I am the silent reader.