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  • Writer's pictureMelina Meador


Yesterday I had a casual conversation with an old man named Ken. He was selling tree tops that were as large as Christmas trees and I, enchanted by the piney, woodsy scent, bought one. A beautiful way to spend $5 and fill my home with that smell! I hope to make wreaths, boughs, table thingees...scatter and fling the needles around each room...just kidding, I'll leave that job to the children.

Ken met me by the treetops which leaned haphazardly against a fence and as he stepped out of his pick-up I was reminded of my Grandpa Elven. Kindly face, weathered skin, eyes interested in me and above all, curious. He recognized my last name and inquired about it, pronouncing it differently than I do, wondering if perhaps we were related.

"I have some Meadors in my family tree."

It was a fun ten minute conversation that could have lasted enjoyably much longer but as I told him, I had bread in the oven and had to get back.

People are so interesting. This man has a large garden that my friends and I walk by when we hike the ridge here in Ellensburg, and it is a feature that amazes and cheers me; to see the changes each week through Spring, Summer, Fall, and now, the close, dark days of Winter.

He inspires me with his living (the small part I can see) and draws me to live more fully, too.

This fall he put out tomatoes, cucumbers, zucchini, and dill weed on a small table just outside his fenced garden . A hand lettered sign read "FREE" and I helped myself as often as I could. We all enjoyed the juice of those sweet tomatoes, tasting summer, relishing a farmer's hard work.

Thank you, Ken.

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