Memory Bank

Potatoes

For most of my father's life, he had a love affair with potatoes.
Each year, in the early Calgary spring, when the weather was cold and the ground inhospitable, my dad(we all called him paps)  would be out in the backyard in his rubber boots or his wooden shoes, and with his shovel in hand, would lovingly plant his seed potatoes.  The work was monotonous and would take many hours.  He would usually be by himself in the garden during planting season which afforded him many hours of quiet-time to think.