There is, indeed, something inexpressibly pleasing in the annual renovation of the world, and the new display of the treasures of nature. - Samuel Johnson
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After a month’s worth of work, the basement at my father’s house is empty. No, wait, on the wall, between the toilet and sink, something hangs? What is it? I move closer and lean in.
Measuring spoons – metal ones. Memories I fought off for a month come flooding in.
Plant food. This is where my father measured his plant food and his pesticides.
Under my father’s nurturing, treasures of nature were annually displayed in his ½ acre backyard - Concord grapes, white grapes, peaches, apples, pears, plums, and cherries.
My father would share grocery bags of grapes (paper bags - they show the stains) with neighbors. Never mind that some neighbors had no idea what to do with a grocery bag of grapes – especially grapes with seeds!
At our house, we knew what to do, the big canning pot (a crab pot to Marylanders) lit upon the stove - grapes became juice and jelly.
“Remember, push on the lid to see if the jar is sealed, and label the lid with 1971 [the year made].”
My father often took a break to enjoy the fruits of his labor (sorry...). Standing in the shade of a peach tree with a bandana covering his bald head, my father would pick a juicy peach. He would peel it with the smallest pocket knife he could buy (smallest - so not to wear a hole in his pocket) and offer me a slice.
Harvesting treasures of nature takes nurturing - food, water, pruning, spraying, picking, and canning.
Yes, it was the annual renovation of the world. Nature and Nurture. Father and Son.
Happy Father’s Day.
This is my first Father’s Day with the memory of my father. How about you? Have a memory of your father? Share a story.
