Weekend Gardener

In our sub-division, an old farmstead, our neighbor’s lot included the old farm garden. Its soil was like black velvet from a half century of spading and fertilizing. A paling fence kept out older chickens and dogs and a fine wire netting over the palings kept out little chickens, rabbits and skunks. It was the finest garden I ever knew. The rows were meticulously compass-wise, cultivation was as regular as sunrise, rotation of crops a marvel and production a gardener’s dream.