I mentioned in a previous post that my travel plans allowed me to celebrate my dad's birthday with him this year. We spent the afternoon wandering the Madison Art Fair, and then we returned home to enjoy drinks on the deck, a delicious dinner of grilled pork chops and corn on the cob, and a delectable homemade chocolate pie for dessert.
While our chops cooked, I grabbed my DSLR camera and started tiptoeing through the tulips, so to speak, in my dad's garden. He soon appeared at my side, and for the next 20 minutes, he led me and my camera from one lovingly tended bed to the next. He affectionately named each flower, and explained what he thought I should know about its size, shape, color, and/or smell. When one existed, he shared a story about how the plant first began to grow, where it had been transplanted from, or who of our family members or friends claimed it as their favorite. I snapped pictures at every turn, thinking ahead to ways I could display or use the photos as a future birthday or Christmas gift for my dad.
The four Ferri went in on a larger gift for my dad with my mom, sister, and sister's family, and a back-ordered gift for him will arrive later this summer. But I realized, as my dad and I talked and walked together - just the two of us for the first time in ages - that maybe our time spent together was all the gift either of us needed.