I love golf. I love watching it, and I loved playing. So why would I write a story about gardening? Well, ten years ago, my wife Jennie started having memory issues from MCI (mild cognitive impairment). It has progressed slowly, but three years ago I decided to quit golfing and spend more time as caregiver.
Enter the garden. It started small. Sufficient sunlight. A small fence. Then, a 25-year-old, 30-foot maple that Jennie and I planted had to go, as well as its stump and surrounding roots. More fencing. More dirt. A compost pile. A rototiller. A soil test. Well, you get the picture.
Gardening takes more time than golf, but it’s every bit as rewarding—and I never have to leave home … or Jennie! And the rewards? That very first burpless cuke is really wonderful. It’s almost as good as hitting a 5 iron a foot from the hole for a tap-in birdie.
My old golf memories will never go away—but new ones are right there for the picking.
—By Bill Finik of Valparaiso, IN
