Mom is not supposed to bend over because of her cataract surgery. She finally relented and let me help plant onions-she poked the holes and supervised the placement and packing of the earth. I got down on my hands and knees (wearing my beloved wellies), rubber gloves and my knee pads and surrendered to the entire process. Her onions, her patch, her direction. We had one of the most special times we've had.
I took the surplus onions and planted them in my surplus dirt-not one little onion stalk was wasted. Mom and I disagree on many things, but onions are not one of those things.