I went home over the weekend, something I admit I don’t do often enough, to see my mom for Mother’s Day and to do a little fishing with dad.
The plan was for me to get to the house a little after 3 p.m., on Saturday. As I am driving mom calls me to say that dad just really thinks it is too windy to fish but if the wind dies down closer to evening we might be able to slip on over to the pond.
As I pulled in the driveway, I saw mom and dad both out mowing the yard. So I decided to grab a weed eater and help out. This led to an evening filled with work; convenient for my dad I am sure. I was glad to help and we did manage to slip over to the pond for a few minutes.
It seems like every time I make it home we end up reminiscing about years past. I’d like to share one story my dad loves to tell.
When we were younger dad would take us to the river where we would dig for fishing worms. One day dad was out tilling up the garden and I was out there digging for fishing worms in the freshly tilled soil. And wouldn’t you know I found the granddaddy of all fishing worms.
Excited I grab the huge worm and raised it high over my head and said, “Look, dad, a night crawler!”
Dad replied, “That’s not a night crawler, that’s a snake!”
Terrified I hurled the garden snake behind me and ran screaming to the house. I’ll never forget that story and neither will my dad.
A lot of time when growing up was spent in the family garden. When we were young and mom and dad were trying to feed their growing family we had two rather large gardens. As the years go by my parents have consolidated to a few raised beds.
I can remember one summer my sisters and I wanted our “own gardens.” So my parents agreed to let us each have our own section of the garden and let us plant anything we wanted as long as we took care of it. We sectioned off each of our “gardens” with some extra bricks, which turned out to be a bad idea years later. To this day my parents still till up bricks.
Best wishes,
