More than 30 years ago Dad transplanted a pear tree in the backyard. He was big on organic gardening, planting trees, bushes, nurturing them to watch them flourish. Ten years after we moved from Hickory Valley, Tennessee, he drove the110 miles back to dig up a fig bush he'd left behind. It now grows near the house in the backyard. The pear tree stands 30 yards away.
Daddy lived long enough to enjoy the figs, but passed away in the summer of 1980, years before the pear tree produced. I remember him fertilizing around it and wondering if his toil was for naught.
In the fall of 2011 during my weekly visit to Mom's, I gathered three large bags of the delicious fruit. Mom also called in friends and neighbors to share in the bounty. Still, innumerable pears hung from the tree and dozens were scattered beneath it.
After gathering the fruit that day, I set the heavy sacks on the table, then turned to my mother and asked,. "Do you think Daddy ever considered he might be leaving a legacy behind when he planted the pear tree? I wonder what he'd say if he knew people from miles around were coming with baskets to gather his pears."
She shrugged. "I don't know, but it has really produced the fruit this year.
"A gift that keeps on giving," to use the cliche'. My dad was a giver. He would be pleased to know he shared pears with his small community. Who can count the jars of preserves that have been made from that one tree?
This gave me food for thought. Does everyone leave a legacy behind? Whether we know it or not, something we say, or some act of kindness we show to another, could become a legacy. Who knows what kind word or deed will change another's life?
My desire is for the words I write to become my legacy. My prayer is the something I've written will influence and encourage my readers in a positive way. The best compliment I could receive would be to hear a reader say, "Thank you. Your story helped me through a difficult time."
And I am blessed to have already heard those words from readers.
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An update on the tree: The following year, 2012, was another bumper crop for the pears. In August, before they ripened, we put Mom in an assisted living home. Nevertheless, neighbors and friends were invited to gather the pears when they came in, in October and November.
The mystery to me was, the next year the tree produced nothing. It was as if an unseen hand had watched over the tree throughout the years, providing those pears for Mom and the community. But when Mom went to assisted living, that same hand let the pear tree rest because she no longer needed them.
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This cowboy is in for a surprise. So, this is his aunt's domestic help? What was in the ad Aunt Em placed in half a dozen papers? And why would a pretty woman travel from Hope, Arkansas to Abilene, Texas to fill a help wanted ad for household help? What is Carrie Franklin really after?
Hello, you busy friends. Thanksgving is a few days away and I'll bet you will be racing through the supermarket and bustling about the kitchen, by Wednesday.
ReplyDeleteIf you can take a little slice of time out and read this post, and leave a comment, I would appreciate it. And I've love to meet you. I'm the new kid on the block.
I really enjoyed this, Laurie. What a legacy about your dad. I wonder if the tree will produce any more pears. And I imagine they are the sweetest, tastier pears around. Makes me crave to have some.
ReplyDeleteAnd a thoughtful question about our own legacies too. Do we leave one? I'd never considered that, but I'll certainly think on it now that it's facing me.
Excellent post, and love the premise and cover of your new book. :)
Laurie: I loved your post. Our loved ones will always be in our hearts even though they have passed on. I could name so many of my wonderful relatives and family who are now gone and I have many things of theirs, mostly photographs. Your memories brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for sharing the thoughts.
ReplyDeleteMiss Mae, that is one reason I started writing. A writer's books are her legacy. I want to pass my stories down to nieces, nephews, and greats, even generations down the line. I want them to have a small glimpse of their grandmother's personality.
ReplyDeleteThe pear tree has put out more fruit, but not this year. Every time we think it has died, it comes back.
Larry, I'm happy to know the Pear Tree legacy moved you. Leaving a legacy wasn't something I'd considered until I started writing. Now it's what keeps me writing. We won't know how many lives we have touched until we get to heaven. It's like the song by Ray Boltz "Thank You For Giving To the Lord."
ReplyDeleteBeautiful and touching post.
ReplyDeleteHappy Thanksgiving, Laurean! My Dad grafted many trees on our farm in Pennsylvania when he was in his eighties, knowing he'd never see them produce. He always said, "Someone will enjoy the fruit." Both Dads appear to be the type who liked to "give without expecting any return." What a great nation we'd have if everyone felt that way.
ReplyDeleteYou are so right. if only everyone had that giving spirit. My dad was into organic farming. He subscribed to the magazine. But I think this pear tree was special because it came from Hickory Valley, the place he and my mom were born, grew up, the married.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, Laurean!
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely post. In 1963, my Dad planted a pear tree in the back yard. Every year, that tree produced bushels of pears. My mom canned pears and made pear preserves every summer. Daddy passed several years ago, and my Mom sold the house a few years after that. She's gone now too, but their pear tree lives on, still bearing fruit every year. My Dad would have been so happy about that.
ReplyDelete