June 2nd  2011    Tim Candler

    Down the road, the younger man was tilling his vegetable patch.  I think he is an engine person, because his rototiller was a clean red last year and this year it is shiny yellow.  On my way back, he was sitting in the shade, his garden half tilled, and the poor boy looked exhausted. 

   This will be his garden's third year.  A tractor initially ploughed, and then he could be seen staring at the turned earth, and I knew the feeling.  Greens over there.  Corn, Beetroot there.  And  Arugula for the missus.  Grape arbor and Giant Pumpkins for the children.  Long rows of perfect Peas and Beans for everyone to see.

     It wasn't a bad first year for him.  I saw lines of things which could have been cabbage.  Definitely tomato, and Squash and of course a bank of Corn that was flattened by a late summer wind.

    Last year, after it was tilled, nothing but weeds grew in his garden, and I saw the word surrender.  I reckoned the red rototiller would be 'For Sale' in his driveway.  And last year after he tilled his garden, it didn't really rain until November.

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