Father Resting

My family farms at Colony Farm Community Gardens. In the past, the plots were used by the patients of a local hospital (Riverview), but were opened for public use.

The family has 6 plots, each measuring around 12 feet by 6 feet. The rules governing their use are pretty strict: organic only, no pesticides, no treated lumber for structures, fertilizer cannot contain any additives, and so on.

My first time visiting the plot when it's in bloom, my parents have to put the area to good use. While the strawberries didn't grow well this year, there was more lettuce, tomatos, veggies than the family can ever eat. Most of the gardeners were in a similar predicament, with too much food and often tried to ply their overstock the other gardeners. One lady managed to give my father what looked like a somewhat kinky, twisty veggie that was curled into a hook even at his protest.

My family teases my father whenever he goes to the plot asking him if he goes to talk up storm or to work. I guess I was his minder today; everyone attempted to make a conversation but he weasled out of it to "make use of his son". Ha!

Trees uprooted, asiles cleared of weeds, we headed home, grabbing some lettuce, cucumbers, and tomatos for dinner.