by Kristin Lane Williams

Created on: February 18, 2009   Last Updated: March 01, 2009

It was his thing, not mine. The great outdoors, the smell of dirt. Even if it was really only our own backyard. It was his thing; his love. This is the story of how loving him made me notice my own backyard too.

From as young as I can remember, he was out there:The Back Yard.As a young girl, it seemed huge. Even just the Garden part of The Back Yard was enough for an entire afternoon adventure. He never tired of it and seemed to have no desire to just curl up inside by a warm fire with a book like his family of women so desired. The garden, the trees, the lawn were his home. He found solace there in the sun as he toiled. He found joy in the soil being caked on his fingers after digging for some pestering plant that none of the rest of us ever noticed or cared about. What in the world was he aiming for? What was he trying to accomplish? I really wanted to know but didn't ever translate that into asking for the answer. He was in his world and I was in mine.

The garage slowly piled up with evidence of his obsession. Green and orange tools that I didn't even know the names of. Most of them sharp but each unique. No duplicates ever. Just one of each to make sure the job got done. Shovels and picks and hoes and every weed hacker known to man. We probably kept the local garden stores in business. There were fertilizer spreaders and wheelbarrows and things I dared not touch because if they accidentally turned on I might lose a limb. What was all that stuff for really? What could he be doing out there day-in and day-out that made any difference for anything significant?

At times I would venture out to try to investigate what could be so the matter with the backyard or front yard or garden, that it would require one's incessant devotion. As it turned out it didn't quite require his full devotion so he started a business and made other people's green patches and bushes his home too. I went with one day and discovered that there was apparently a proper way to snip off something that was dead from something still living and there was a proper tool to do it. The philosophical implications of this enlightenment was enough to send me to my room for days for further examination. There were things for me to learn, I was sure of it. I just felt like if I went down that road, I might never come back.

One fall I wandered out into the well-groomed front yard and walked amongst the trees. Maybe I was just being me or maybe I was really, truly being his daughter as I noticed that all

• 1
• 2
• Next Page >>