I walk to the back of the Lawn, I can see my Dads straw hat in the garden,
as he cuts his string to tie up the tomato plants.
Leaning up againt the tree that sits near the garden is the hoe, I grab it as
I head down the slanted grounds in almost a run.
Dad gives me a hello, with the sweat pouring down his face, good morning
Dad, it is going to be a Hot one today, as I begin to chop away the weeds that
have the ground covered.
With each chop I think of how hard keeping a garden is. I think how
Grandma worked for so many years just to keep her soil growing, How she
worked this soil with her sweat and bone, as my hands grind into the soil pulling
away the weeds, I think to myself, Grandma's hands have been in this same soil.
How I miss granny. I dig deeper into the soil, just to know her hands were here.
It's like I can feel her near me in the garden, she worked it for the fruits that it
bears, just to provide it for the ones she loved, you know, I never showed her how
much I appreciated her giving of the harvest, she always had such wonderful vegetables
and the work she put into this soil. I look to the sky as if to say thank you Grandma.
Looking at Dad as he works and sweats, I see generations here.
Grandma and Grandpa worked it for so many years, now that they have passed
Dad works it, and I have found my hands reaching into the richest soil in the land.
As I prop my hand up on the Hoe and look at this land in thoughts,
I kinda laugh as I find myself doing what Grandma used to do.
I can still see her in that big hat, and that swaying dress, her hand on the hoe
and the other on her hip, looking at her Garden with a smile.
Grandma worked this land up to her late eightys, Grandpa passed on leaving her here
for many years alone, being a strong woman she kept this soil as rich as it was when
Grandpa's hands left this world.
I want to cry today for I miss them so much. But I look at this land and they are here.
I have the memories of two of the happiest people I know, and the soil that they worked
I now work with my Dad, at his side, the work is hard and the pay is not that good,
But when the fruit begins to bear, we all smile, for we have kept the richest soil Alive.
I know I will never put as much sweat and bone as Granny did or that Dad has,
even my brother works these lands.. But just to know what I do today that
I have helped in someway and I have worked in the richest soil in the Land.

By Dellena K. Wyrick
(Permission to display this tribute granted by Dellena K. Wyrick,
granddaughter of Arthur and Della COLEMAN on Sept. 1, 2008.)

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