I can’t recall just when we first got together, but I know it has been years. You were new to the area and I was familiar with the territory already. We hit it off right away- you were comfortable to be with. A good fit.
No, we didn’t do those miles on the Application trail- but right here in my garden. You, faithful garden shoes, were with me all the way. Rain or shine, dust, dirt or mud- We were together. Faithful friends, so easy to be with, such a comfort.
Like me, at some point in time, you began to show your age. Coming apart at the seams, bottoms wearing thin. You knew the exact shape of my foot and you made the tasks whiz by day after day. Sure, you did get some rips and tears, but you kept up your end of the deal. Lately your bottoms have become bare and letting in grit and stuff, but yet, the comfort was there.
Yesterday, with the dampness and wet, my socks were wet and grimy. The pads I put in a month ago, could no longer deny what was to be. Time to let go of my old friends. No more trips to the garden to help with the chores. My old friends no longer can do it.
So now you sit and watch me don a new pair of shoes- knowing you will never make those rounds again- I’m sorry old pals- I just saw no other way. Now just what to do with my old friends . . . a tough decision for another day . . .
N.A.
N.A. Booko- Gardening in Chatham county since 1972
From: N.A. Booko
Sent: Wednesday, May 27, 2020, 05:09:25 PM EDT
Subject: We walked a thousand miles together . . .