Memory

Some chat today reminded me of a wondrous time in my married life. Frank and I had moved back to the University of Wisconsin in Madison so he could do a postdoc. We moved into University housing which was a complex for postdocs and new faculty with families. As part of this community we were entitled to a plot of land to create a garden. Frank and my father tackled that plot as if they were seeking gold. Not one weed, root or rock was left after they prepared the soil for planting. Over time as seeds and plants turned into delicious vegetables, either my father or Frank would weed and water each day. At one point, two young professors of Japanese descent, hovered over them as they worked the soil. They asked if they could take a picture of our garden since they had never seen such beautiful work as had been done on our little plot of land. That was my husband.