Prepping the garden

Today we got the garden ready so we can plant next week...we all raked out the dead stuff on top and then Bruce and David rototilled. The soil has improved every year, and this is the fifth year we have done the garden here, so the soil was more crumbly than clay-clods this time -- hooray!

While the guys tilled, Abigail and I sat in chairs and watched and played with the dog...except for the one time that Bruce stopped the tiller and yelled, "Marsel! I need a hoe, NOW!" ...guess what he found...(slither slither) We all moved really fast! :-)

Well anyway, I had a moment while I was watching the guys till...Bruce has let David "help" till every year we've gardened here (don't worry, the tines are out in the front, not near their feet, so it's safe!). The first year here, when David was two, his "help" consisted of a few inches' worth of tilling, and it has slowly increased until this year he helped till more than half of the garden. This was the first year that -- although I'm sure he still slowed Bruce down some -- he actually worked at trying to hold the tiller steady and steer it, instead of just hanging on to the handle and walking. I felt a bit choked up as I sat and watched the muscles in his becoming-a-big-boy arms flex and work as he helped his Daddy. There's something poignant about watching your husband and son work together.

I also felt a bit of awe as I reflected on the thought that, although the technology has changed, this is what fathers and sons have done for millenia -- every year, the father teaches the son and lets him handle a little more until one year he's big enough to help dad hold the reins to the horse team (or tiller, in our case!) and soon he's old enough to drive it himself. It's neat to be part of a long history in a small way...