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The clipping this text was read from
The clipping this text was read from

Bounty on the Farm

Bunches of garlic drying under the grape arbor at my Nonna Tferesa’s house in Rome, N.Y., is one of those summer memories fixed in my mind forever. In later years my dad grew the garlic. After drying it under their grape arbor, he and mom sat for hours on the back porch peeling garlic and putting the cloves into jars of olive oil so they could have a supply of this staple all winter long.

When I went to Waterpenny Farm the other day to buy some vegetables, I was filled with a deep feeling of being home when I saw Rachel making bunches of flowers and little Nicholas washing potatoes under a ceiling heavy with the bountiful crop of garlic from that wonderful farm.

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