If anything, the garden grew larger after her passing.

Dad lives all by himself and eats like a tiny bird.

He has a simple bowl of warm oatmeal in the morning, a basic sandwich at noon, and a small piece of baked fish with a potato at night.

He remains as thin as an old wooden fence post.

One warm summer day, about two years ago, I stood near those nine rows of green beans and tried to calculate the total yield in my head.

There had to be hundreds of pounds of beans out there, thousands of red tomatoes, and enough potatoes to feed an entire military division.