My Father-in-law dropped by this weekend, and ever the good guest he arrived bearing gifts. This weekend’s care package consisted of freshly grown produce straight from his garden. Now to really understand Len you need to know one thing: The only thing that he loves more than painting is gardening. He is a gardener of the old English tradition, bringing forth a green bounty of life from rich soil lovingly tended using organic methods. And that is the real secret; he lovingly tends it. His is a labor of love.
If I had been thinking, I would have taken a photo of the produce, because it was just sumptuous to see, but as you may have guessed from my use of the past tense, we ate most of it already. If it’s any consolation, let me just assure you that it was delicious! The onions were crisp and pungent, the zucchini firm and flavorful, and… oh it was good!
But that’s the way of love, isn’t it? It brings brings out all the best flavors of life and encourages a riotous growth of color and beauty in all that it touches. It causes the loved to constantly strive to be better. That’s what it did to me: gave me the strength and courage to go from a punk kid with a temper to a man who might just be good enough to, if not deserve, then at least accept the love that Dawne has bequeathed on this undeserving soul.
And on that mushy note, let me just say that love, when allowed to come into its own, is capable of acheiveing wonders that would otherwise be forever out of one’s reach.
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