Saturday, September 10, 2011

In Memory of my Dad


Seated in the shade, quietly blending with the early morning cool and the blue sky of what promises to be a hot day, I conjure my father’s spirit. He passed away on August 30, less than two weeks ago. What would he like in my garden? Certainly not the overlong grass emerging from a thick bed of moss, nor the invading blackberry and morning glory in the neglected corners. In my father’s garden, there were never neglected corners, and his lawn was meticulously manicured with surgical precision. But he would like the potted fuchsia full of blooms dancing in the light breeze. And he would admire the cherry tomatoes, now finally ripening at the end of this delayed and late summer. Enjoying their beauty, I feel his presence.


 Thank you, Dad, for showing me your love of gardening.