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  • I attempted to be a gardener for the first time this year. My city started a community garden and I eagerly signed up for a piece of land to call my own. With the help of a friend I tried to contend with the 10x20ft plot of clay filled soil.

    For the most part I gardened alone but, the solitude and sweat was respite for the soul. Nothing matches the excitement over seeing the first signs of a tiny tomato growing. I have managed to stay out of nature's way enough to allow life to grow.

    It hasn't been the highly productive garden I had envisioned, one like my father's but, it made me realize how much he knew. Every year my father planted, weeded, watered and grew some of the largest vegetables most people had ever seen. Even after his death the garden, neglected, grew robust weeds of all varieties. The corner of our yard turned into a jungle for a few months.

    At times this summer I wish I could have called him up for advice. "Dad, what do I do about the bermuda grass?", "How do I stake tomatoes?", "How did you make it all look so easy?"
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