As a child one of my enjoyments was working in a garden. My parents loved to garden and it rubbed off on me. At one point I was working for a handicapped man down the street who taught me how to raise vegetables, strawberries and the like. All summer long he sat in a chair at the edge of the garden and coached me. “Put more manure in the base of that hole!” he would shout across the garden. And during that summer I watched magnificent produce come from that garden. Squash and beans and lettuce and spinach. I was amazed as I recalled the seeds that came out of jars from the past year’s harvest. And the strawberries! I would pick quart upon quart and 25¢ a basket just saying “grow!” so that I would receive more money and more work. It didn’t matter how hot it was. It was just an incredible existence. Each day I would head to his little farm, to feed the chickens, pick up eggs and go pick the first strawberries of the day. Later in the summer I would pick vegetables for hours so that he would sell them. Each fall we would collect the leftovers and he and his wife would gather the seeds for the next year’s plantings. Continue reading Just A Garden Variety Kind Of Person →