Happy birthday, Dad

My dad would have been 81 today. He died last fall, suddenly, unexpectedly, after a weeklong visit with me. What a gift and blessing that visit was.

I miss him every day, especially now, when it's time to get the garden going again. He was a wonderful gardener, and it was something he was consistent about. I don't remember a time when he wasn't growing something, even if it was a pot of tomatoes on the patio when the yard was too small to dig up a larger plot.

When he visited here last fall, he urged me to find someone with horseradish and get a start from them. He figured our Amish neighbors probably grew it, but when I asked, no one had any. To my surprise, I found horseradish root, ready to plant, a couple months ago at a little store in town.

To my further surprise … it's growing!

Horseradish and rocks: A still life. Heh.

We don't eat a lot of horseradish around here; a $2 jar probably lasts a year. But when I saw that plant, I didn't hesitate to buy it and stick it in the ground. Some people remember their fathers with photos or songs, or warm, fuzzy memories. My dad's legacy is … a bitter root.

I think he'd love it.