There were photographs of the first vegetable beds, the repaired fence, the fruit trees when they were little more than thin sticks, and the shed before he had finished repairing it.
He had documented the garden’s progress for years.
I looked at him.
“You’ve been planning this for a long time.”
He nodded.
“I started small. I saved what I could. I learned how to preserve food, how to collect seeds, how to repair things instead of throwing them away. I bought materials when I could afford them and waited when I couldn’t.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
Ray’s expression softened.
“Your mother had already carried enough burdens. You were growing up, and I didn’t want you to spend your life worrying about everything that could go wrong.”
He paused.
“You needed someone to make sure there was food in the house. You didn’t need another person frightening you about the future.”
