~as times get even tighter~

They called my grandfather "Sweet Potato Brown" because he had this knack for being able to grow sweet potatoes unlike any other person around.  In the late 1920's and mid 1930's, while the country was deep into the Great Depression, Andrew Brown was helping his family stay self sufficient by the construction of hot beds enough to fill the entire huge acreage to the front of his farmstead.  Inside of those hot beds, he grew starter sweet potato plants and other things that he sold to people in the area.  The sandy soil of that part of Harvey County, Kansas was just perfect and my grandfather was wise enough to use that to his advantage.  

I never knew him.
He died when I was 7 months old.
One time my mother told me that he held me a few weeks before he passed away.  He looked up at her and said the sweetest 9 words in my memory.

"Wouldn't it be nice to be this young again?"

I thought of my Grandfather Brown this afternoon as I was helping Mike outdoors with a raised gardening bed area he is working on for us.  Even though I never knew my granddad, I feel like a part of him lives within me, a tiny baby he barely knew.  He loved growing things and playing in the dirt.  The truth of the matter is, so do I.

Last year, our second summer here in the state of Texas, we put in a small garden area.  With a huge backyard, we knew there would be plenty of room for it.  Everything went in nicely and because the drought had broken, we knew there would be sufficient water available.  It worked out ok but one thing became apparent as the summer went on.  Mike and I were both feeling the aches and pains of pulling weeds and keeping things nice and neat.  Before the summer was over, Mike had determined that he would begin the plans for a raised bed system for the summer of 2017.  No more ups and downs for us.  There was an easier way and we were ready to find it.

One thing that Mike is good at is his ability to look at something that seemingly has outlived its usefulness and find a way to repurpose it into something else.  When our good friend Dwight told us about tearing his old deck apart and wanting to get rid of the wood, Mike figured it would be perfect for a part of the raised garden beds.  All we had to do was go over to his house and load it up.  On a warm Sunday afternoon this past autumn, we brought them all home. There were nails to pull from the boards but that ended up being not so bad.  When Mike had torn down the old carport last summer, the roof had been covered with sheets of tin that were still quite useable.  He figured those sheets would be good to cover the sides of each raised bed system.  Mike was right.  They really do work quite well.  

It's not a fast process to build this kind of garden and Mike takes the time he needs to be sure that it is done correctly.  Little by little, it has gone in and sooner or later, the finished product will be there for us to enjoy this summer.  It's been rewarding to see things that might have been cast away to the local landfill, instead being constructed into something that will provide the home for our family's garden this summer upcoming and for many more to come.  

I have learned in the process many valuable things.  Measuring for accuracy, sometimes over and over,  is perhaps at the top of the list.  Yet maybe the greatest thing I have learned of all is the reminder of a character trait that was passed down to my generation from those who survived the most bleak of economical periods in American history.  Like my grandfather before me, I believe I know one thing for sure.

Make do with what you  have.
As times get even tighter (and it's hard to imagine that they could be), it's a realization that we all sooner or later may have to come to.

Gardening is the best form of therapy that I know of.
I can't wait to get my hands in the dirt.

"Sweet Potato" Brown grew many good things.  One of the greatest was a little girl who would one day become my mother.