picking up spilt seeds
carrying then to the garden
Dad helps me plant them
A memory from what must be all of 65 years ago.
The barn is gone now, The garden is now mine and very small, but in those days it took a tractor to till it. Our saved seeds were kept in Mason jars, one of them was broken, the one with the pea seed in it. My Dad and I carefully picked seeds out of the broken glass, and then carried them out and neatly placed them in the shallow depression that we really hoped would be a fine rows of peas, lots and lots of them. He began planting at one end of the row, and I started at the other. my little kiddo hands couldn't hold many pea seeds so I was out of seeds quickly. Off I went to the barn to get more seeds. The doors were open and the gaps between the the boards let in plenty of sunlight, carefully I picked the dried peas out of the broken glass and put them in my pockets, when they were full I picketed a hand full more, and headed for the big barn door, which had swung closed while I was inside the barn, it took both hands to open it, as I walked along the edge of the garden my father got up and quickly walked toward me. When he got close he pulled out his white handkerchief and held out his hand and said, "give me those seeds", when he put them on a rock, there was blood on them and on me. He wiped away the blood on my hand and tied it up with then his handkerchief, sealing it with a kiss.
We had a good crop of peas that year, And i have a now faint scar that reminds me of some good memories.
