Garden Lessons
“Hot diggity dog!” I shout. “We’re finally here!”
I jump out of the car like a wild kangaroo and run up the porch steps. The front door bursts open before I even knock. |
“Sweet Pea!” Grandpa hollers with a big belly laugh.
“There’s lots to do on the farm today!” He scoops me up and I squish my face against his puffy white beard. |
“First we’ll feed the chickens,” he says.
“Chickens?” I ask with a nervous grin. “Yes, ma’am,” he answers with a wink. |
“Yowzers, Grandpa,” I say with a gulp. “I’ve never fed chickens before.”
As we walk towards the chicken coop, Grandpa hands me a bag of chicken feed. |
I close my eyes, turn my head, and fearfully shove a fist full of the feed at the chickens.
The chickens grumpily grunt and waddle away. “I don’t think they like me,” I whimper. 
|
Grandpa says that animals can sense fear.
He calmly bends down and gently sprinkles the ground with chicken feed. “Here, chicky, chicky,” Grandpa softly calls. "They like it when you talk to them," he says. |
I take a deep breath and walk towards the excited chickens.
“Here, chicky, chicky,” I quietly call. I slowly reach out my hand and sprinkle the feed. “Awesome, Grandpa!” I say as the chickens nibble away. Grandpa gives me a high-five. |
“How green is your thumb?” he asks.
“Grandpa!” I laugh. “Don’t be silly!” “It’s just a saying,” he explains. “Having a green thumb means you know how to keep plants happy.” “Then I want my thumb to be as green as a pickle!” I shout as we walk to the garden. Grandpa laughs and walks to the shed, where he fetches a bucket of water. “This is my favorite bucket,” he says as he fills it with water. The bucket is rusty, dented, and cracked. “Why don’t you buy a new bucket?” I ask him. |
Water drip-drops from the bucket’s crack.
Grandpa hands me the old bucket and says, “Walk around the garden.” I watch as droplets pitter-patter onto the thirsty flowers below. |
“Sometimes things look broken,” Grandpa says, “but really they work just fine.”
Now I understand why Grandpa keeps that rusty, cracked bucket. |
Grandpa and I have a rest on the garden bench.
“I spy with my little eye, something that is purple,” Grandpa says. I guess it right away. “The flowers!” I yell. “Now I spy with my little eye, something that is shiny,” I say. Grandpa looks around the garden. He guesses the bucket and the garden shovel, but I shake my head, “No.” “It’s your prosthetic leg!” I announce. “You win!” he laughs. |
It's time to go home now.
I snuggle up against Grandpa’s white fluffy beard again. “I’m really proud of you, Sweet Pea,” he says. “You bravely fed the chickens and found your green thumb, all in one day!” I give Grandpa a bear hug and say, “I’m proud of you too.” |
