My father planted a vegetable garden each year, a real necessity in those days for country folk of modest means. And, he seemed compelled to expand its borders each year making it bigger and bigger exceeding the plot shown above several times over. (Or so it seemed to me.) "Why does he keep doing this," questioned the voice of disbelief from my adolescent sense of rationality. With each annual growth ring I could see my play time shrinking below reasonable levels. In fairness to him, even though certain tasks like potato planting or pole bean staking required additional hands, he seldom insisted that I forego play for garden chores. Which, of course, was fine with me at the time. Over the years, however, when confronted by reminders like this gardener, I feel a nagging twinge of guilt admitting that I fell short and could have helped him a lot more with little sacrifice. A permanent message from the sower.
© d080423-019 Gardner with Buttercups
Overton County, Tennessee
Wednesday 23 April 2008
Above: Vincent Van Gogh, Sower with Setting Sun, 1888.
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