Father's Day

Love that dad.

xx

Faces: Father, Daughter

My father

one of the youngest photos of him I've seen

At first I didn't recognize him

because I knew him, of course,

when he was older.

Perhaps this is a high school photo.

Something about it seemed

so eerily familiar.

And then I remembered this photo:

Me, at twelve.

In-ter-est-ing, mm?

(With thanks to Cousin Harry for my father's photo.)

My Father's Garden

We're coming to the end

of the peas and beans:

they ripened early

in a grand fanfare

so perfectly perfect

crisp and sweet.

My father liked to garden:

our yard was lush with peonies and roses

corn, tomatoes, beans, peas and cucumbers.

He liked to lean down and smell a yellow rose

on his way to weed the rows

He liked to lift a tomato to his nose

and smell its warm ripeness.

My small garden honors him

just as the homemade pasta sauce

I ladle into my mother's bowl honors her.

Is there something you make or do

that owes its origins to your parents?

xx