My Dad, the Gardener

My father, Frank Lombardi, was born on a farm in Orange, Connecticut in 1916. His parents were born in Sant’ Angelo in Formis, province of Caserta in Campania. He loved being in his yard/garden. Every year my mom said the grass area grew narrower as the garden area grew wider.

My dad grew herbs, tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, broccoli rabe, zucchini, carrots, and corn. He had a grape arbor with two variety of grapes. Purple and white. The white grape tasted like apples. And yes there were two apple trees. The pear tree started as one variety and then he grafted a different variety of pear to the tree. That always amazed me.

Then there were the figs. He started with one tree. He was so proud of it. When it produced its first fig he presented it to my grandmother who was from Naples. She said it was like what they fed to the pigs on the farm. Nice.

But he persevered. He had seven fig trees. He built houses for them for the winter. He would pack them with leaves and newspaper. They all made it through every winter.

The year my mom died the garden was his oasis. He nurtured it the way he had nurtured my mom through her 10 year battle with Alzheimer's. During his last year, he did not plant as many new plants. My brother and I packed up the fig trees that November for my dad. Sadly, he did not see that they came back the next year.

I really hope that the family that lives in his house now is caring for the garden. It would be a shame for all that work and love to go to waste.

Lucia Lombardi Borzillo