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
