Remembering Dad

Just read a lovely post called 'Papas Garden' from Love minus Zero ~ writing about her beloved Grandfather and how he grew fresh lovely veggies ~ it reminded me about about my Dad and visits to his allotment many years ago now ~ as a little girl going with my Dad ~ here in the UK they are communal plots or patches of land for / of planting and garden areas ~ some have sheds where many hideaway reading Sunday papers storing garden tools but also some having little camper stoves making as we say here in the UK 'a brew of tea', small wildlife ponds thick with croaking frogs and tadpoles in Spring, but all have vegetable patches ~ many looked after by perhaps family members ~ Dad had one that had to be reached across a rickety bridge over a narrow running stream ~ a running tap that could too rinse off muddy carrots freshly plucked from the earth ~ beautiful 'spuds' (potatoes) huge and small for boiling hot buttered to taste ~ delicious ~ I loved crossing that bridge ~ Dad saying careful now in case you fall in the stream ~ it was very narrow too ~ his strong arms wielded that huge spade as he turned over the rich soil to uncover the fresh veg ~ lettuces ~ onions ~ runner beans ~ used to get as brown as a berry wandering around all of the allotments ~ sharing a mug of tea handed over from soiled covered hands ~ They gave and still give extra space and land for families and communities to wonderfully grow and share ~ thankful I read today and for provoking that lovely memory with my Dad as my heart and thoughts are reflective about his passing ~ One year on the 14th ~ ~ Lib ~