THE OLD GRUBBIN' HOE

Leanin' there today
In my backyard shed
Resting...
After a lifetime
Of hard work
is Dad's old
Grubbin' hoe.

O, if it could only
talk!
It'd have stories.
It helped win WWII
with our Victory Garden.

It was good for doing
Almost anything, it
seemed!
With some energetic
chopping, you could dig
a big hole in a hurry!

We used it for digging
in flower beds...
Planting trees...
Making rows in the garden,
Using it kinda like a plow...

Or chores at the farm...
Breaking the ice in winter
on the stock tanks...
Digging out a "stuck truck,"

Tidying-up irrigation ditches
and planting the "farm garden"

 Including the watermelons!

The big thing I remember
about that old grubbin' hoe
Was when we went down
on Second Street there in
Clovis, at the end of Wallace,
Where water always stood---
and dug our big fat worms
for a fishing trip to the Pecos.

It seemed the old hoe
Was almost like a dog
anticipating a walk---
It was ready and eager and loved
digging for worms.

Through many years
It was always there
like a loyal friend---almost
a member of the family.
Ready to do any chore
Big or small...
It was our "go-to-guy"
So to speak!
It got all beat up
and rusted
with the heavy wood handle
Showing many scars.

Those in the cognoscenti
May call them "mattocks,"
Or "azadas," but
In West Texas, they were
Simply "grubbin' hoes."
Same thing.

The years went on and I left home.
Dad grew older...
We all grew older
even the grubbin' hoe.
And there were no more
fun fishin' trips to the Pecos,
and no more worm diggin'.

I went back over to his house,
often...
Dad, ever a farm boy
Would be sitting against the house
In his old faded green steel lawn chair
in the summer time...
Surveying his backyard.

He had apple trees, cherry trees,
And a peach tree...
He had his straight rows of
Black-eye peas, Kentucky Wonder
Green beans, cucumbers, okra,

His ever-present onions and garlic,
and squash, with nary a bug...

 and of course---the tomatoes!

And right next to him, leaning
against the house, was his companion...
And mine --- from WWII times... it was the old
Grubbin' hoe---which he used for weeds,
And whatever else.

One day, out back there, in his
cool green inviting backyard,
He and my youngest son were talking;
Dad said: "I love to come outside, early
on a summer's morning...my little plants are
all singing and dancing with joy,
just to be alive."

Today it rests in the corner of my shed,
Not lonely--- for there are
Other garden tools there...
But not in its class or with
Its experience...

I may just clean up the old veteran
a bit, get some rust off and oil it---
Maybe even repaint the bare handle

 a nice symbolic green color---

And move it up to my cozy attic room,
Where it'll last forever,
Lean it against the wall
and put a picture of Dad in his straw hat
On the wall, right over the
Old grubbin' hoe.

********30********

Dedicated to my Dad, Father's Day, 2013

BY MIL
5/17/13




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