Tuesday, 15 November 2011
In The Glasshouse
It was a glasshouse that he had built himself. Being an engineer by study and an inventor by practice it was designed to gather and hold as much of the suns heat as possible. Concrete block along the back wall and glass along the front.
My father didn't like my constant talking and questions when he was in the garden, so when I was with him planting tomatoes or onions outside I just observed his procedures, sometimes helped and tried not to ask too many questions. And each season as I plant our family's tomato plants I am transported back to those times when Dad explained how and why to plant them up to their bottom leaf in order to stabilise them. Dig a watering channel in front of the plants because tomatoes don't like getting their leaves wet. How to tie them up as they grow taller so the stem grows upright and their fruit is kept off the ground. How to take off their side shoots.
All of this comes back to me each season, each time I step into our glasshouse. I think of those quiet times where silence tells its own story. I remember those times with my father and I am grateful.