Gardening as a kid
My Dad loved to garden, and was an excellent gardener. Growing up, I always remember there was a vegetable garden in our back yard. And on summer afternoons I always knew that if we needed to find Dad, we’d probably find him out in the garden, tending to his vegetables or turning his compost pile.
Dad was composting long before it was fashionable to do so. He made his own mulch, too. He did some legal work for a friend who owned a small tractor rental shop, and for several summers he was able to use the chipper /mulcher. The epitome of zero waste gardening, my Dad always had a little chuckle over the fuss people made about saving banana skins on Instagram, like it was a new idea.
On those late summer evenings, mom would often send me out to the garden to pick tomatoes for our salad for dinner. When I got out there, I’d ask dad which ones I should pick. “Pick some cherry tomatoes – those are the easiest for mom to put in the salad.”
After a half hour in the garden, mom would come out after me, wondering why I was taking so long just to get some tomatoes. My father simply replied, “She ate more than she put in the bowl”.
Reflections on Nature
Dad loved to be outdoors. We would often go on hikes either near our house or at my Grandparent’s house. He loved to point out interesting plants and help me learn their botanic names. And he would also point out interesting features, such as a burl or the way the wind whirled the branches of the trees.
All of his favorite downtime activities took place in the most beautiful outdoors locations. For example, skiing in the pristine European or Vermont mountains, Fishing in Labrador, sailing in the Mediterranean. And when not traveling to far flung nature activities, there couldn’t be anything more relaxing for my Dad than chopping up some wood.
Gardening in California
After we bought our little orchard in California, whenever we spoke, Dad always asked after what was growing in my garden. “How are the tomato seeds coming along this year?” or, “Are the Calla Lillies in bloom yet?” or, “Make sure to send me some seeds from those pretty pink wildflowers!”. He always remembered my garden and each flower that lived here. And he always made a point to ask.
He always wanted to help out around the property. Despite his stature in his professional life, no chore on my farm was too menial or to taxing. He especially loved tough chores, such as digging out my old orchard stumps, and weeding after a rainy spring.
While my father was always a profound writer above being a gardener, I remain a better gardener than writer. But I find the need to write to recall my favorite recipes, or my best planting discoveries. And I write to do homage to the man who gave me my love of nature and the outdoors.
Thank you, Dad, for sharing what you love so abundantly with the world. Thanks especially for sharing your love of plants, birds, animals, nature, and the world around us.
