We were young, then,
living above the weather,
only a few thousand feet up,
looking down on the Santa Rosa plain.
It was our first mortgaged home,
three loans and a garden.
We needed that garden,
the food it provided,
fresh, dried, canned, frozen,
whatever it took.
Didn’t even have a real shovel,
only a spade,
with a lot of rocky adobe to turn,
but it was worth it,
losing weight,
getting into farm boy shape,
appreciating both sun and rain,
no time to complain,
not picking the corn until
the water was boiling.
It was my third garden,
the first with my mom after WWII,
the second with my friend Tim,
small but bountiful, and
we learned a lot.
Getting close to 80 now,
not much rain here,
but a lot of sun.
Don’t know if I could
do it all again,
but I’d like to try.
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