By Kathy Miele
I was poking around in the garage when I noticed an old wooden box tucked in the back of a shelf almost hidden by one of the boy’s old baseball bags. As I pulled it out I couldn’t help but call out to my husband, “Steven, you’ve got to see what I just found!”
Steven came out into the garage. “What?” he asked.
I was holding up the wooden box. “It’s Dad’s old gardening box!” I looked inside and began pulling out the old and rusted gardening tools. “Well, these have seen better days,” I sighed. “That’s for sure.”
Steven reached in and picked up the old gardening glove, caked with dirt, its mate long gone. “I don’t think there’s a thing worth saving in this whole box,” he said as he tossed the old glove back in.
“It’s not the things inside the box that I want,” I said. “It’s the box itself.”
I held it close to my chest. “Dad was such a wonderful gardener maybe just using this will bring me luck with my own gardening.”
Steven looked out the window and pointed at my cherry tomato plant sadly sitting in its patio pot, leaning awkwardly to one side. “I’m pretty sure what you need are a few tomato stakes and some twine to get that one back on track.”
I ignored his suggestion for the moment, too busy in my own thoughts. I dumped the contents of Dad’s gardening box in the trash before placing it on the counter. Then I grabbed my car keys and headed out the door. “I’ll be back in about a half-hour,” I called.
Steven sighed as he watched me go.
A half-hour later I burst through the door calling out to him, “I’m back!”
Steven came out to the kitchen just in time to see me drop my overflowing shopping bag onto the kitchen counter. “I’ve got some stuff for my gardening box,” I said as I held up a three-pronged hand tool. “I got a new digger thing.”
“You mean a cultivator?” Steven asked.
“Whatever you call it.” I dropped it in the box and pulled my next purchase out of the shopping bag. “My own pair of gardening gloves.” I held up the denim-colored cotton gloves with small white flowers printed on them. “Aren’t these adorable?” I asked.
“That’s what you’re looking for when you work in dirt – adorable,” he said.
He watched as I reached into the bag and pulled out a half-dozen additional new hand tools. “I’m not sure what any of these are called but I’m pretty sure I need all of them.” I smiled as I dropped them in the gardening box.
“Did you happen to get some gardening stakes and some twine?” he asked as he pointed to my tomato plant on the patio.
“Even better,” I said reaching into another bag. “I stopped by the fabric shop and picked this up.” I showed him the light green grosgrain ribbon. “This will look prettier in the garden than twine.”
Steven shrugged as he looked at the ribbon. “I guess that will work, too.”
I smiled as I picked up the newly filled gardening box and headed out the backdoor. “I’m telling you Steven, now that I have Dad’s lucky gardening box this backyard is going to look gorgeous in just a few weeks!”
Steven didn’t say a word, but really, he didn’t have to.
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