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Rated: E · Poetry · Hobby/Craft · #1175920
An Image of my Grandfather, his love of gardening and strive for perfection
He decided not to trust,
store-rack seeds sold in a pack,
having great pride in a garden
free of weeds and rocks;
for they may not provide,
large scrumptious fruit,
grown on strong healthy stocks...

From the most virile plant,
in the garden's cultivated row,
the best "Big Boy" tomato
he would carefully select;
and then glean seeds,
from the ripened fruit,
that in hot-house toast,
as spring approached,
quality seeds would push through soil
that year's prize plants he did expect.

Seeds from the gel of the prize tomatoes
must be washed and cleaned;
with gentle hands in a pan of water,
seeds were rinsed and placed upon a screen...

The frame of woven wire
with a coating of seeds,
placed atop a sitting room heatrola stove;
would gently dry,
to be stored inside,
dormant throughout winter's cold...

As frigid nights settled outside,
and Grandpa, stove-side fell asleep,
a smile would seem to sooth his rest;
I always believed he was dreaming,
of engaging in spring planting,
putting this years seeds to the test

Blaine Warren

© Copyright 2006 Blaine Warren (blainewarren at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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