While visiting my parents over the holidays, my Dad announced, rather quietly, that he might have found a place to garden this year. My parents moved to Ohio just after I moved to California, and, like me, Dad hasn’t found his gardening groove quite yet. He has a yard, but it’s not a good one for tomatoes, even though it has beautiful trees and landscaping and all that.
The plot he has his eye on is on a farm outside of the town where they live, and is not far from where he coaches a high school softball team.
“I’m not sure how I’ll fit the gardening tools in the car with all the softball equipment, but if I can figure that out, I’ll be able to garden and coach in the same trip,” he said.
“Growing vegetables,” I said, “while growing young minds.”
“Yes,” he said. “Yes.”