Garden Vegetables

Last night we had dinner with my mom and dad. I had made a gift of dinner to my dad for Father's Day. All he had to do was call with the request. I think I still owe him dinner, after all the times he fed me as a kid.

The idea was that we would pick the dinner up and deliver it to his house. He doesn't seem to get around very well these days. And my mom fell on Tuesday and hurt her foot, so she is hobbling, too. So, we would pick up dinner and deliver it to them. We would also sit and enjoy their company. It would be nice.

Knowing that my mom hurt her foot I figured this week would be a great time to take them dinner. When I talked to my mom she said that dad was up to going to the restaurant. It was always his favorite, so we made the arrangements to meet them there.

My dad is an old North Dakota farm boy. I was raised in and always lived in a city, but my dad always had a garden. The victory garden, the vegetable garden, his weekend hobby. I remember he always had one, even the summer of 1968 in Buffalo, New York, he always had a garden. Still does, although his age and ailments precludes the effort he used to put into it. He still has vegetables growing.

And so do I. This year I planted tomatoes, peppers, corn, yellow squash, zucchini and pumpkins. I must admit that my garden isn't doing as well as my dad's gardens used to, but I have been away for awhile and I know I need to water more. Even now, as I look out I see corn with yellow leaves and wilted squash plants. I turned the water on. There, that ought to help.

Even though my garden is not the greatest of gardens it has been producing. So last night I brought two zucchini's for my mom and dad. They seemed very grateful. My dad remarked that this was a first. "This is the first time one of my children has brought me vegetables from their own garden." I could tell that it meant a lot to him. It means a lot to me, too.

I feel extremely grateful to my dad for teaching me the value of fresh vegetables. Indeed, he tried to teach me years ago, but I was too young or too distracted, or whatever, to really listen. Yet now, as I try my hand at gardening again, I find that I really was listening to those words years ago. We really do learn. I am extremely thankful for the gifts from my old man.

D.