My Father's Garden

It was summer time, a time for planting and reaping and when it came to my dad well he could make that garden sing He spent hours nurturing his plum tomatoes, while I his offspring could only admire his patience, dedication and caring from afar. An immigrant of Italy he knew everything there was to know about big fat juicy tomatoes. He knew they needed time to grow, and I knew there was a little humor to be had here, in toe. "Dad, how long will it be before we see our first tomato?" I asked " Oh not for a while" he answered, then the sun suddenly flashed Time for a little fun in the sun I thought, off to the store I went came back with a big fat tomato. I hung it on the plant with some twine then called him over with an eager voice "Look dad we got our first tomato, isn't it great ! " I exclaimed he investigated with a grin, soon my lie had been defunct, defamed that was a summer when it rained and rained and rained, we got lots of tomatoes that year, and most of them we canned. What I never will forget, is the love in my father's eyes, every time he smiled like that, I was always left with a feeling, that I had just won the gold prize.