Kacey drove his car over a pile of mulch near Richard’s shed. He hobbled to a bare spot in his vegetable bed and waved at the dirt. “First gardening lesson is this—most gardens don’t do real well.”
“How come?”
“Because folks are so excited about gettin’ a harvest, they don’t take time to work on the foundation.”
“The soil.”
He nodded. “That’s right. It’s the most important part of your garden. If your soil’s depleted or infested, the harvest will suffer until it eventually dies off completely. Lots of people stick seeds or transplants right into a foundation that’s far from ready and wonder why things didn’t pan out.”
“That makes sense.”
Richard showed me his routine. Every morning, he broughthis coffee grounds, one banana peel, and one egg shell out to the garden and buried them. Then he opened his shed and brought out soil test kits. Before I even had time to register what I was undertaking, we were in Jack’s yard, testing the soil, stripping out the grass, and wheelbarrowing some of Richard’s compost over to the beds. He brought fertilizer and other things too. Gave me a pair of gloves and a few garden tools. The prospect of a fresh garden plot and teaching a newbie made Richard so happy. He shared his knowledge and resources with excitement rivaling kids on Christmas. It was precious and selfless.
My heart warmed for my new friend and thankfulness unfurled like a hug to my spirit.
Before I knew it, Kacey and I were covered head to toe in dirt and it was high noon. I learned about nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium. How some plants deplete the soil and how others replenish. About organic matter and the cycle of death and life in the garden. About oxidation, worms, and composting raw material.
“Death makes the soil stronger in the long run,” he explained. “Without some dyin’ now and then, the soil will deplete. You can always dump in some manufactured chemicals to give it a boost, but nothing strengthens the foundation like a good dose of dead plants. Brings about new life.”
Richard talked with such passion, teaching as we went. Referencing his dear Rose many times. It was fun for Kacey, but deeply inspiring and emotive for me. Something about Richard and Rose made me want to dig in—create something to span the ages. The way Richard spoke, you would think the plants were eternal. Truly life-filled. And I felt that. Right to the depths of my bones.
His old hands dug into the soil alongside mine as we churned the new into the old. His were hardened with deepwrinkles and raised veins. He worked alongside his wife until her final days. I wondered for a brief moment what Jack’s hands would look like forty years from now. Entertained the what-ifs of us.
I shouldn’t have, but I let Jack hold me. And it felt better than I remembered. Jack’s gentleness defied his size. His hands had always been exceedingly tender. The memory of how they moved across my back and shoulders made me tear up on more than one occasion today.
Kacey cried for food, jerking my thoughts back to reality—I was only here temporarily and this summer garden I was planning with Richard would be abandoned. It hurt my heart, but I pushed the concern away. This was my chance to learn, if nothing else. Maybe Jack could enjoy the harvest himself.
I was pretty sure he wouldn’t mind us working the beds. Maybe I should’ve asked first…
“Richard, I need to take Kacey in for lunch and nap.”
“Not a problem. If you want, we can talk tomorrow about what to plant.”
“That sounds great. Thanks so much for being willing to teach us.”
“The first occupation granted to humans was gardening,” he said with a shy smile. “My Rose didn’t take that lightly. She felt it was a skill to pass on, and I’m happy to do it.”
Later, I prepped some chicken strips and salad. Jack would be back from work about five o’clock or so and I wanted to make sure dinner was ready. As I washed and chopped the store-bought lettuce, I thought of Richard’s garden for the millionth time and wondered what I could plant. “Hey Siri?” I called. “Can you read a list of summer vegetables for planting zone…” I faltered, wracking my brain for what Richard had said. “...seven.”
Siri rattled off a list and I let myself dream. I could makesome fresh salsa with the things she listed and my heart soared. No matter that we might not be here. What if wewere? Or what if we stayed close by after the divorce? Surely, Jack would want to see Kacey, so I could stay close and come by to pick.
I knew it was optimistic, but I didn’t care. I could use a smidge of optimism in my life.
When Jack got back, he talked to Kacey in the living room for a few minutes before finding me in the kitchen. “Hey,” he said. “Smells good.”
“Hey! Thanks!” I smiled. Genuinely.
“Uh,”—he ran a hand over his head—“just making sure you know…you don’t have to make dinner.”
“Kacey and I have to eat too.”
“Yeah, I know. Just don’t do it forme. Don’t want you to feel obligated to have dinner on the table when I come home.”
I looked at him and let my eyes rake down his body. His black uniform was as sexy as it had always been. He appeared large and commanding all the time–but something about the uniform kicked his look up a notch.
“I don’t. I’m happy to make you some dinner.” Breathing became difficult and I tore my eyes away, focusing on the chicken in the pan and wrestling a few vivid memories away. He usually wore his badge and utility belt home. I did the honors of removing them many times.
His gentle nod and slow smile made the kitchen labor very worth it. “I won’t lie. I’m definitely hungry.”
