021725

When I was three, my parents built a house out in the country. They bought four and a half acres on the side of a small mountain, or perhaps a large hill. The road, which ended shortly past the driveway, curved around and up to the foot of the driveway, which curved back end up to end above the road itself. My father always wanted to have a garden, and they put one in on their lowland property beside the road, which was less than a thousand yards from the house. However, I guess going up and down proved a little onerous, and after some years they put a new garden in beside the driveway. it was much closer and you didn't have to go up and down to get there. They abandoned the old garden, except for the asparagus, which takes 3 years to mature and is therefore something of an investment. They would send us down the hill to pick asparagus. periodically, for a number of years until the garden, which they were not maintaining, was overwhelmed by second growth wilderness. Between the road and the garden was a small stream, which my dad damned up with native clay, making a small pond for us kids to play in. We did that a lot. There was nothing fun about the new garden, except that when we were picking green beans and wax beans, we were officially authorized to eat as many as we wanted in the process. I like green beans better than wax beans, which you don't see much in stores, so I guess most people agree with me. My father had grown up in New York city, and always pined for nature. I'm very grateful to have been exposed to a lot of things as a result, even though I am more of a homebody than he ever was.