A garden of memories

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Grandfather loved to garden. He would spend hours in the backyard wearing his straw hat and planting vegetables or weeding his flowerbeds. I have fond memories of the days he spent teaching me the names of plants and showing me what to do. He would lay planks along the dirt to make it easier for me to walk on, and would show me how to drop bean seeds in the dirt. I loved those afternoons we spent together.

Years later his arthritis became so bad that he was no longer able to garden. I wanted him to still be able to enjoy his flowers, so several times a week I would visit and take care of his gardens. He would sit on a chair outside while I watered and weeded and told him how things were progressing. With his guidance, I even managed to harvest the vegetables the way he’d always done.

Now that he is gone, I have my own garden planted in his memory, filled with his favourite flowers and, of course, peas, tomatoes and lettuce. Now, my youngsters are already learning to grow their own dinner.

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