Several lengths of silver angle-iron had been in the garden for over a week before my father acknowledged their existence.
– Ah, yes. I’d better put that together, he said cryptically, one morning.
Later on, he’d assembled several lengths of the angle-iron into a cube-shaped frame.
– What are you making, dad?
– What are you assembling, dad?
– A greenhouse. With a gable roof.
– Are you going to grow anything in it?
– No, I thought I’d leave it empty for years, and then knock it down.
– Oh. What for?
– Not really. I’m going to grow tomatoes in it. Read more…
My Father’s Garden: Greenhouse
Copyright © R J Dent (2014)
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