"THE WAY A GARDEN SHOULD BE!"

"Now that my parents are gone I can tell you ..." Oh, this is going to be interesting," I thought, as Darling Hubby inserted an unusual comment into the middle of our conversation about what our dads would or would not do.

The conversation had started when I served up some sweet red home-grown home-canned pickled beets from daughter-in-law's father.

"Hubby, do you want some of those beets that she brought over for supper?"

"Sure.  I love beets."

"Did you know that her father canned them?  Can you imagine him having a garden and canning its fruits?  I can't.  He's so sober, impeccably attired, and fastidious.  But, he is smart, and can do many things like restore a car, hunt, and head a multi-million dollar concern!  Still, can you imagine, canning, having a garden?"

I quizzed hubby further, "When you were growing up, did your parents have a garden?"

"Oh, yes.  We all had to weed.  Mom didn't want one weed left behind; it had to be pristine."  

My mind went to their red brick ranch style home that had an above ground pool sitting on dry clumpy sod where I supposed the garden in the back yard used to be.

"Did your dad help any?  'Cause my dad would do the tilling, the fertilizing, and the planting, then he was done.  Finé."  We grew everything from corn, and Indian corn, to tomatoes, and green beans and cucumbers, but never beets.

"Yah, dad helped weed.  We all did.  Now, that my parents are gone I can tell you...when Mom's back was turned my dad said, "Oh, look, a clod, looks like your mother," and he gave it a smack with the rake. We boys all laughed."

Darling Hubby kept talking, "When I came to your house, the weeds were 6 feet tall!  They were taller than the plants!  I thought, "That's the way a garden should be!"  

And he gave a heart-felt laugh.

"I loved it."