To whom ever might enjoy a Ballad written especially for me. You might keep in mind while reading that my son-in-law is from Nantucket and New York. Is now a professor at two Universities now in the mid west where he met and married our daughter also a teacher. His life became changed and entered into a different world at the marriage. His wedding gift was a chain saw and his mother from England background almost had a heart attack of this mid west new life. He had brothers that are well known. I hope you enjoy as most know me this way. This hung in my kitchen, framed on top of vegetable material background. Guess it ain't much but this is my life "It made me happy".
The Ballad of The Garden ____
For Tinka (----)
By Son-In-Law
My wife’s mother, (Tinka) has a garden
Which day after day she works hard in
She plants all the seeds
And then picks all the weeds
And then mows it—Oops! Picks it (beg pardon).
She rototills earth for an acre
But helpers? Gets nary a taker
Just she and kind Poppy
Who’s style we’d copy
When Grammy shouts “It’s a back-breaker.”
So down to the garden we pile
To Work in the sun for a while
Digging the rows
Using shovels and hoes
Planting plants for what seems like a mile.
These plants, mind you weren’t ornamental
There function was quite fundamental
They should provide food
For the broadening brood
Of the ____ clan: not accidental!
This garden, in short grew no flowers,
Instead, Tinka and crew spent their hours
Planting tomatoes and scores of potatoes
And green beans and white cauliflowers.
They put in some cabbage and scallions
And peppers both hot and Italian
The plot was so fertile
A green snapping turtle
Smelled supper, the little rapscallion
They put in a patch of zucchini
Which started out just teeny-weeny
But the rain and the sun
Made them soon weigh a ton
Spawning visions of veggie linguini.
The garden includes sweet peas
Even though peas make Tinka sneeze
In order to warn
The crows off the corn
They’d hang crow corpse down from the trees.
Behind the tomatoes was fruit
Where melons and pumpkins took root
The carrots and lettuce
And peppers would get us
Competing to sight the first shoot.
Finally, came time for the canning;
A job which required full manning
Of various spots
Lest the vegetable rots
Clearly, the process took planning.
Some, in the field, were the pickers
While antics resulted in snickers
Others inside
Would, together provide
A work force whose work got done quicker
Washing and sorting the beans
And placing them in tureens
A teaspoon of salt
Then the high pressure vault
Just one of the many routines.
Washing and cutting in pieces
The hot peppers surely increases
The injury rate
But when canning, its fate
That your hands will burn deep in the creases
Why, asked my bro, do we do it?
Why give so much energy to it?
Why not just shop,
Or at restaurants stop?
Clueless was how he did view it.
All I could say was, the city,
While boasting the real and the Gritty
Misses the beat
When it comes time to eat
Then I smiled and thought – such a pity!
Author
Topic: The Ballad of the Garden for Tinka (Read 5370 times)
