This past weekend was not unlike any other - a marathon of sorts. On this particular Saturday, however, we did something quite unique. Hunter and I left the house early armed with coffee and a shovel because he and his teammates were going to be planting a tree outside of the new ball fields following opening ceremonies.
Once the Mayor threw his opening pitch, big Cubbies and little Cubbies raced outside the field to claim "their" tree. The boys were stoked and they had no idea that they were about to work their butts off. Once the tree was in the hole the shoveling and raking began. Many of the boys had never even handled a shovel. It was fun to watch them try to figure it out. There were times when I wanted to take the tools away from them and show em' how its done. Instead I just got bossy with the coach and let him tell them what to do. With a little sweat, a lot of teamwork, and thankfully NO blood the tree was planted properly.
I had to take several brief moments to myself as I hid behind my phone/camera...thankfully my shades gave me proper protection from myself. It occurred to me that my boy will have matured long before this tree. Still, every year we will likely make a comparison of who has sprouted more (the tree may win in this dept.) and someday, maybe someday, I will be showing my grandkids which tree their daddy planted when he was their age.
The hands you see before you are the hands of a man who spent his entire life working hard. Many times these knuckles were bloodied from a hard day's work. There was often dirt under the nails as a result of many hours in a marvelous garden. A garden which was nurtured by generous hands and produced enough for his family, his neighbors and even his customers. These are strong hands that could toss a horseshoe across the yard to make a perfect ringer and push a tire swing loaded with giggly girls. These are intricate hands that could tie a fly or bait a hook ever so perfectly. They are also the sympathetic hands that comforted me in times of doubt, the soft hands that cuddled my foot the first time I stepped on a bee, and the teaching hands that help to mold me into the (self-proclaimed) marvelous cook that I am. 
