...from a Facebook post by a friend.

"What I remember most about your dad is when he came into FSA right after some major dental surgery to do his crop report. That's some serious dedication!"

I remember....growing things. (by Emily)

I love gardening. I love pouring over garden catalogs in the late winter and early spring, drawn in by the descriptions of various vegetables and fruits. I love planting my seeds, checking them multiple times a day as I wait for for them to germinate. I love finally moving them outside, still checking them way too often for growth. I love spending hours outside, weeding, staking, observing. And I'm 100% sure I get it from my dad. You'd think someone who farmed for a living would become worn-out with the whole planting-growing-harvesting thing. That wasn't the case with Dad. Besides the corn, hay, soybeans, etc he grew for the farm, he loved growing plants just for the joy of it.

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Before it was backed into by a wayward milk truck driver, our barn's milk house had a greenhouse attached to the front. It wasn't huge, but it was tall enough for adults to walk inside without stooping. It was made of that thick, wavy, plastic sheeting, and even during the wintertime felt much warmer than the outside. The greenhouse had a couple shelves to hold various plants and gardening equipment.

In my memories I am shorter than the shelves. It's summer, and I can feel the humidity inside the greenhouse. I smell potting soil and the green-y smell tomatoes have.

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After the greenhouse was demolished, Dad raised starter plants in the Jiffy greenhouses. I can remember seeing plenty of them around Grandma's house- some kept upstairs and away from curious little hands. Dad used to get so excited to show me the baby seedlings, and to lift the lids of the containers when they were tall enough to touch. I remember him especially being happy over the muskmelon plants.

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When I was older, Dad let me pick out sweet corn seed from the feed mill. After he was done planting the cow's corn, he'd plant a few rows. I remember trying it raw off the ear because he said it was good that way.

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I remember growing potatoes in tires half-planted in soil.

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I remember my brothers planting corn seed in my grandma's garden during the course of their "farm set" play. She left it there :-)

Starting 'em early. I think Dad would be proud.

Revival.

When I first came up with the concept for this blog, my idea was to have one location where everyone in my family could share memories, photos, and all-around reminders of my dad. Recently I realized that although the blog was (and is) a great idea, I was not (at the time) in the best place emotionally to keep up with it. Now, however, I find myself coming back to it. I feel an almost *physical* need to write things down. 

As I get older, I realize that our memories are fickle; they age and fade. I don't want that to happen to my (our) memories of my dad. So here we go- take two.