Since receiving the first advanced copy of my cookbook a couple weeks ago I have been thinking about my dad a lot. When I first signed my book deal my dad was very proud. He never expressed his pride with a huge smile or a congratulatory hug. Instead, I could tell he was trying to process the idea of his daughter being an author by taking in a deep breath and staring at me in a way that affirmed. There was a mutual understanding, and it seemed to me that it was not just about my success but his too. After all, both he and my mom sacrificially paved the way for us kids to have a better life than they themselves did. They considered this as one of their purposes in life -for their ceiling to be our floor.
After my dad graduated from high school he became a gardener and landscaper. My earliest memory of my father was of him tending his vegetable garden in North Seattle. He grew organic vegetables from seed before it was cool to grow-your-own vegetables as a way to feed our family. Gardening and harvesting vegetables and fruit was a viable way to feed six growing kids very inexpensively, and he was good at it.
Eating homegrown lettuce, kale, broccoli, spinach, carrots, tomatoes, radishes, beets, squash, zucchini, Swiss chard, cucumbers, corn, potatoes, apples, cherries, plums, grapes, and strawberries was something I always took for granted. I never appreciating my dad for his way of providing because I thought it was strange that we were the only family I knew of that grew their own food. Everyone else I knew bought their produce from the store. But as I grew older I did appreciate his gardening, which I never seemed to have a knack for.
Halfway through writing and photographing my cookbook my dad suddenly passed away in an accident. From the time of his death until now I have thought about him, often wishing he was still with us so that he could see a finished copy. With the launch of the book tomorrow I am still very sad that my dad is not here to experience the joy of this major milestone in my life.
In honor of my dad, with the help of my kids and mom, we decided to plant a vegetable and fruit garden. For some people planting a garden is no big deal, but for me I’ve been afraid of planting a garden because in the past when I’ve tried, everything died. The container herb garden I keep on my deck has been the only exception.
The other night my mom stopped by her old house, which she and my dad had lived in all of my life, and brought home some Swiss chard leaves she picked off from the only thing left of dad’s 200 ft. x 10 ft. abandoned garden. I was surprised that a plant my dad planted years ago was still producing edible healthy leaves. This seemed so bizarre yet I knew it was very special. For the last year and a half, since dad’s been gone, this plant survived on its own.
With only my mom and I home for dinner, we made Swiss chard wraps with steamed rice and miso paste. It was a bit of a somber moment as we both ate in silence thinking of my dad. The next day I thought about that orphaned Swiss chard plant so I drove over to my old house and dug it up and brought it home and planted it in my mom’s garden which was filled with flowers and fruit bushes brought from her home or purchased at a local nursery. When Mom saw what I had done, she cut all the leaves back telling me that dad always told her to cut the leaves when you uproot a vegetable to help it with shock. I have no idea if there is any validity to this but my dad always seemed to know what he was doing. I liked that she was taking charge of this vegetable plant – I just knew my dad would have been very proud of her and I was happy to have a part of my dad with us in our home.
Having one garden is nice but having two is so much nicer! So with my husband’s help, he built a garden box for the kids and I to plant some vegetables by seed as well as some tomato starts. After clearing out some nasty weeds, blackberry bushes, and the ‘never-goes-away’ Morning Glory, we filled the box up with good soil. After a trip to the nursery my daughters and I came home with seeds and tomato starts.
The kids labeled wooden sticks as I fought with my pessimistic attitude that this was not going to work. We spent the entire Memorial Day weekend working on our garden project. After planting the tomatoes, my daughter Mimi and I read each seed packet very carefully and followed the instructions for each type of vegetable. As if my dad were there with me I said quietly to myself, “Ok dad, I am going to need your help with this because I don’t know what I’m doing.” The peace I felt after I said this really made me feel close to my dad.
Today when I went to check on are vegetable garden I saw tiny little radish sprouts barely out of ground and felt a huge sense of relief. These little sprouts mean so much more than food to feed my family, they are part of an on-going journey I am on.
The last couple years have been such an emotional journey for me. Even though my dad is not here, in a way he is. These edible memorial gardens are in remembrance of my dad. By incorporating flowers and a singular Swiss chard from my father’s garden, and planting new seeds while passing on my dad’s love of gardening to my kids, I’ve honored his memory in a beautiful way. I can tell it is having an impactful healing effect on me also. What I love most about these gardens is that it feels like dad is still feeding us like he used to all those years. Homegrown vegetables I once couldn’t appreciate in my youth have now become cherished reminders of his love for us every time we eat them.
Perhaps you’ve lost a dear loved one and have been thinking of ways to keep their memory alive. May I suggest planting a tree, a blooming perennial plant, or a vegetable garden? There is something very therapeutic to see nature’s way of bringing new life and growth into the world. You can start as little as one plant or even a seed. What you decide to add makes it special and will keep your loved one’s memory alive and ever present.
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Thanks for sharing your heart; this post is healing, full of love, and redemptive. One particular part had me picturing myself in your shoes as a young kid; I would have been feeling odd too if my parents didn’t “buy all our food at the store.” Thanks for keeping it real.
I loved this post. How happy would your Dad be reading this post? I think… very. It’s very sweet and thoughtful. Love your book trailer, btw. Can’t wait to see you in Seattle!
What a wonderful thing for you and your family to do. A beautiful memory.
At the same time while wiping away a tear,and thinking of my own dad and his memory, I also thought of the Victory Gardens from WWII, http://www.livinghistoryfarm.org/farminginthe40s/crops_02.html . Not only were people feeding their families, but it also brought them a little closer for a cause. No matter what the cause was or even with you and your family, your dad drew you in, years later. Family is family throughout time.
Alice, your story is beautiful and what a lovely way to remember your dad. Congratulations on the launching of your book. He’s there in spirit and the Swiss chard plant is his witness.
Our family has tradition…a Prickly Pear Cactus that we take a leaves from and plant in our next home. The cactus now lives across several states.
I hope you’ll post the progress of the garden. I’m especially curious about the radishes. I’ve never had a green thumb but I keep trying and to this day I still do not have an herb garden. It’s not that I expect to feed my family from the fruits of my labor. I garden because there’s something therapeutic about watching plants grow from seed to plant, however short lived. Anyway, the radishes I planted just after Easter are suppose to mature in less than a month and I plucked them up this past weekend and there’s just roots – no bulbs at the end that I would call a radishes. So question…are radish leaves edible?
Thank you for that beautiful post. I too planted a garden in memory of my grandmother who always had amazing things coming from the ground. My garden is flourishing and I think that someone from up above is keeping an eye on yours too. God Bless
Such a sweet article! But I have to say, I nearly spit coffee all over my laptop when I read the “Never Goes Away Morning Glory” phrase. I’ll bet your dad fought the same battle. Ah, the joys of the Pacific NW – fabulous gardens… “fabulous” weeds. Best of luck with your plantings!
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I’m sitting here in tears. What a wonderful tribute to your father and it was meant to be that swiss chard was still there, waiting for her to find it and show that he’s still with you all.
You have such a wonderful talent for writing. I feel your emotions in every word. What a beautiful tribute to your Dad and take comfort in knowing he is with you throughout every moment.
I’m anxiously waiting the arrival of your cookbook from Amazon 🙂 Thank you!!
Alice, so sad but so real. It is very difficult to move onwards and upwards but you have done such a lovely thing building a garden. I got shivers when you said his plant was still growing all by itself
I loved this post Alice. It says so much about you and your family and shows your true roots for food were seeded in your father’s harvest. Beautiful memory and tribute to him. I was very close to my Grandfather and he loved to tend roses. When he passed away my husband planted me a small rose garden to keep my Grandfather’s memories close to me and even today when I see the bright beautiful colors and smell the wafting fragrance of the roses I smile and think of him. Thank you for bringing that back to me through your story.
what a beautiful way to remember you dad. I really, really love this idea.
Beautiful post, Alice. No doubt about it – your dad is most certainly proud – and for good reason. Love to you on this amazing and significant milestone.
A lovely tribute to your dad. I think all we want in life is to be remembered for something and to be remembered for growing plants is such a happy thing. I’m sure he would love that you and your daughter are planting your own gardent.
“They considered this as one of their purposes in life -for their ceiling to be our floor.”
Alice, this is now my favorite quote! If that didn’t already have me bawling, you transplanting the kale sent me over the edge 🙂 My daddy passed away 8 years ago, just a few months before we relocated to another state. During the times that I’ve often ‘wished’ I could tell him something or show him something, I’m reminded of a parable that my great-grandmother would often tell me about~Luke 16:19-26. I do believe that my daddy sees those things, just as I believe your dad sees your accomplishments.
P.S. Thanks for the inspiration…I’m so planting a salad garden this weekend!
That was a lovely story. Thank you for sharing it
What a touching post, Alice. I’m sorry for your loss. I’ve lost both of my parents now that my mom died in February this year. My parents raised eight kids on virtually nothing. My dad was in the military for more than twenty years. When he retired from that, he went to college and got his masters while also working two jobs. My mom had the vegetable garden, and sewed our clothes and blankets, and re-finished furniture, and shopped garage sales. I didn’t appreciate wearing hand-me-down clothes, or the heavy blankets made from usable pieces of worn out clothes, or having to go with her to those garage sales. Now when I see a sign for a garage sale, I think of her.
You’re right about planting something to help deal with losing someone. I planted some rose bushes for the six babies I’ve lost over the years. When I clip roses to share with my friends, I am thankful for the five kids I did get to raise, and happy to put a smile on someone else’s face with fragrant flowers in the place of memories I didn’t get to have with those I lost.
May God bless your garden, and you. I’m sure your dad would have been really proud of your gorgeous book, the first of many I hope.
How lovely! I recently brought home a sapling from a date tree that my parents planted several decades ago. They brought it home from my Mother’s ancestral village in China and nursed into a beautiful & bountiful tree over the decades. My Father passed away 9 years ago and I have planted this in remembrance of him and in honor of my Mother. The date tree is one of their favorite passions because of the symbolic importance of family history in place & time, lineage & endurance. I hope my little sapling will thrive here in the Northwest. Thank you for helping me to re-focus my view of today 🙂
Alice, I don’t have the words to ease the grief of your loss. But the way you have honored your father (and mother) with your work and your actions is beautiful. I love that the swiss chard plant that nourished your family so many years ago now has a new home with you.
Alice, this was an amazing post and I wish you and your family the best with your garden. I have been counting down the days until the cookbook was released and the best part of my day was getting the confirmation, from Amazon, that it shipped today. You have molded my life in so many ways and have made me the cook I always wanted to be! Thank you and congratulations on your book!!!!
I lost my Dad last year, too, unexpectedly (aren’t they all). Growing up in Florida, he always spent his weekends in our yard, tending all of the various plants, flowering and fruiting that we had. Just a few months after he died, I planted a tomato container garden – my tiny building doesn’t even have grass, and tomatoes were his favorite. Just going down and checking on it everyday gave me a little alone time to think about him and was a really nice way to keep him in my thoughts. My tomato garden is in its second year now and this year, I am branching out and trying new things; its about moving on but keeping the important things the same.
Hi Alice – I too enjoyed your post so much and it reminded me of my Mom who we lost 11 years ago. It happened that my son got a tree sapling on a field trip on the day she died so that became our “Nana tree”. It is a wonderful reminder of her and I love the way nature connects us to those we’ve loved and lost.
This post hit home for me. My grandfather was a big gardener. I have so many warm memories of him and his garden. My favorite picture of him is bend over tending to his plants. I keep his memory alive by planting a garden each year. I hope to pass this down to my kids, so our Papa will always stay in our hearts.
I lost my Mom a few months ago and we have planted a lilac bush in her honor. (she always had lilac bushes in her yard). It’s a beautiful way for you to remember your loved ones and a nice tradition to pass on to your children.
This is a beautiful post. May your garden continue to grow and flourish and provide your family with not only sustenance but with your father’s love as well.