“She comes by every Saturday morning,” Dad explained softly.

“Evelyn prefers the yellow squash and the small red potatoes.

She says the small potatoes taste just like the ones her mother used to grow.”

Evelyn let out a tearful sigh, holding her cloth bags tight.

Chad looked between my father and his mother in complete shock.

“I called the county code enforcement on this garden,” Chad confessed, his voice hollow with regret.

“I called it an eyesore and demanded they force you to tear it all out.”