Daddy’s Bountiful Garden
- Dawn Davis
- Jan 15
- 3 min read
Last weekend, Andy and I went to a local art gallery to see a collection of pieces by Salvador Dali. We had the chance to hear a lady speak whose father was Dali’s publisher.
Her stories were so interesting, and what stood out to me the most was that Dali chose colors for their representation. He used a specific shade of blue to symbolize the celestial and a light green to represent freshness and growth.
As we begin the New Year, those descriptions come to mind—wanting a fresh beginning and envisioning growth through the aspirations we set for ourselves.
The image of Daddy’s bountiful gardens amazes me. I can remember him telling Mama at supper several times, “This year, I’m not going to plant one as big as last year.” But he always did. We had every type of vegetable and fruit you could imagine: purple hull black-eyed peas, green beans, butter beans, Silver Queen corn, turnip greens, tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, apples, peaches, cantaloupe, and my favorite—watermelon.
Daddy knew exactly when to prepare the soil, fertilize, use a tiller, plant, water, pull weeds, and remove rocks so the vegetables and fruits could thrive.
Mama and Daddy worked as a team. After Daddy harvested the vegetables, it was time to prepare them. We had a big basement, the coolest part of our home during the hot Alabama summers. Snapping green beans, shelling peas and butter beans, shucking corn, soaking turnip greens, and peeling peaches all took place in that basement.
I was often asked to help, but of course, I never wanted to. As a child, I couldn’t fully appreciate the hard work and pride my parents poured into their abundant garden.
Daddy had a way of making anything fun, even chores. I can see it now—Mama with a big, faded yellow plastic bowl, shelling purple hull black-eyed peas. By the way, those peas would stain your fingers purple. Suddenly, she screamed, spilling hundreds of peas onto the floor. Daddy had placed a toy snake in the bowl, knowing how terrified Mama was of snakes. With a great poker face, he exclaimed, “Doris, what in the world!” She shouted back, “There’s a snake in the bowl!” I ran outside to the driveway in a panic. I can still hear Daddy’s hearty laugh as he said, “Oh, it’s just a toy snake.” Mama cried, “Rayford!” then we all burst out laughing. Before I knew it, my dreaded chore was done.
My older brother, Buster, once told me after Daddy passed away, “Daddy was organic before it was cool.”
My parents were always happy to share their harvest with family and friends. Many times, they used it as a way to invite neighbors to church.
I must admit I’ve become quite finicky when eating vegetables now. Until you’ve had homegrown food, you can’t truly appreciate the flavor and freshness.
My parents were hardworking. Daddy never complained. He could work in the garden during the heat of the day, then come inside for lunch, wanting a big glass full of ice with a Pepsi Cola. Mama would always praise him when he brought in a basket of fresh produce. Daddy would smile and say, “I want these vegetables and fruit ready for Sunday lunch.” They often invited their best friends, the Hardley’s , our preacher and his wife. Mama prepared the vegetables and fruit as if they were meant to be featured in Southern Living magazine, and the fresh produce was always cooked perfectly.
Thank you, Mama and Daddy, for teaching me to pray before every meal and for giving glory to God. You both set a beautiful example of working in God’s vineyard—whether it was in our home, the garden, the yard, the flowerbeds, or most importantly, sharing the story of Jesus.
