by Freida Marie Crump
Greetings from the Ridge.
“Herb, we’re too old. We just can’t do it anymore.”
“Speak for yourself, Freida. I’ve still got it in me.”
“Whatever was in you has long since left, Herbie. It’s time to hang it up.”
And so began our annual battle on whether or not to plant a garden. I’m not entirely unsympathetic. I know that there’s something in the DNA of