Thinking of a John Lennon song

Today is our son's thirty third birthday.  Our only child, you'd think parenting would be simpler than it would be for parents with, say, five children.  Yet, we make it more complicated by worrying over the idea of when to get involved and when to step aside.  With five children do parents feel relieved when their kids ask them not to get involved?  I don't know.  I only know it was good to see and hug him today outside his office building as we delivered birthday brownies and a gift basket.  He seemed genuinely glad to see us.  Hope so.  We never want to be a nuisance, add one more thing to an already full plate of Life.  We hope he knows we offer a soft place to fall should he ever need it.  He is the light of our lives.  And the John Lennon song?  Beautiful Boy. 

My dad was a farmer.

Ahhhh, childhood memories.  My Father was a hothouse rhubarb farmer.  I loved the strong smell of Earth in the dank, dark hot houses; Dad had two on a small ten acre farm just outside the city limits of our small town in Washington State.  Now and then I would help cut, grade and box this beautiful vegetable.  Yes, it's categorized as a vegetable, though it is most often used in the way we use fruit, in desserts, jams, and sauces.  Dad would dump a big box of rhubarb onto a large table and Mom, Aunt Glady and I would take one, whack off both ends (the leaves are highly toxic) and decide the grade:  fancy, extra fancy, or cull.  Mom stood on that hard concrete floor all day while I was at school.  I think back on that now and how hard that must have been on her feet and legs, but nary a complaint was heard.  Dad tells of breaking off a stem from the root ball and eating it then and there.  Pretty acidic little guy for my taste, but Mom made THE BEST rhubarb custard pie you've ever tasted.  Mmmmm, memories.

My father was also the foremost hop dryer on this side of the mountains, maybe in the State.  Another strong and enjoyable sensory memory is the smell of the hop kiln filled with hop dust you could see in the air as the sun rays filled the room.  The floor of the room is slatted and covered with burlap.  Dad would take a hop flower in his hands and crush it determining by the scent if it was ready for baling. 
     Two plants, one red, one green.  Very pretty.  Very unique.  Very important to my childhood.