The potato harvest was in … or so I thought.
Out from five burlap sacks had rolled several dozen red and white spuds, some small, some peculiarly shaped, and others bulky but smoothly contoured.
I spread the spilled dirt from the bags, now free of potatoes, over the base of our raised bed from which just a few days previously I had pulled this summer's now-spent cucumber plants.
This refreshed loam will serve as the base for next spring's vegetables.
All seemed settled, with the ground prepared for a rest.
Then it rained … and rained.
I went out to the garden the next morning and discovered that the torrent partially uncovered one white potato I had missed while gathering the others. There under the morning sun, it revealed itself from under black soil and brown mulch that slid back over its rough skin like a grainy curtain.
Seeing it there struck a memory chord … not a reverberation from one occurrence, but a stirring invoked in various moments throughout my life when I was reminded that one can overlook small, vital things when absorbed in larger tasks.
And sometimes one gets an assist from another person or a natural force like a rainstorm that prompts a look back to recognize a missed detail, spot an unfinished step, or discover a small gift that had been left unopened.
In a garden where my children had walked through many summers, such memories now echo among the sounds of autumn's approach.
Guest blogger Richard Kordesh is the author of "Restoring Power to Parents and Places" and has worked professionally in the community development field for 35 years. Visit his website, richardkordesh.com for more.
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