When I think of our father, I see him outdoors.
He strolls in from the vegetable gardens in a dusty, white T-shirt and worn, brown work pants. Sometimes, he carries a bushel basket of produce — green beans; lima beans in their shells; ripe, red tomatoes; green peppers; corn on the cob — baskets filled with the result of work that nurtured the farmer in him.
Or I see him returning from a session of weeding those gardens, hoe resting on his shoulder. He is smiling for he has probably had a most rewarding conversation with his vegetables.
He rides along high on the metal bucket seat of the farm tractor, plowing the fields, often with a child on the seat in front of him.
He is returning home from a morning of hunting in the woods around the farm, gun cocked open and resting on his shoulder. The oversized game pockets of the canvas jacket he wears are warm and bulging with squirrel or rabbits he has harvested. I recall stories of deer that got away or of a crazy squirrel Dad swore threw an acorn at him before running up the tree. I remember Dad saying how he didn’t really care if he shot anything or not; he just wanted to be out there, walking in the woods.
Dad knew the best place to cut red-berried holly and sprigs of mistletoe, where the dark, juicy fox grapes grew, and how to find the black walnut tree when the nuts were ready to pick. He knew where the creek deepened to make a fun, safe swimming hole on hot summer days.
I think of Thanksgiving morning treks into the woods in search of the perfect Christmas tree, to which Dad would tie a bright piece of cloth. He would chop down this tree later, carry inside and set it in its stand. After we went to bed, he would be the Santa who decorated it.
Dad was forced to sell the farm years ago. He gave up his vegetable garden. He no longer went hunting and no longer walked in the woods. He spent years wishing for what he could no longer have. But in later years, he has was physically able to be outdoors in the ways that sustained him.
Now that he is gone, when I think of my father, I think of him outdoors where he was happiest.
He is smiling. He is content.
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