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A Reading Rainbow

When I was a little girl I spent a great deal of time watching television. My mother worked the dreaded, by me anyway, 3-11 shift at a local nursing home. I spent those hours with my Nana. Nana was a strong, loving woman with skin the color of a Hershey's kiss and big toothless smile that was just as sweet. Nana loved me. I knew this. But her first and truest love was gardening. And it was very evident that every growing thing felt the same about her. She could make anything grow. Her garden was a miraculous thing to see. She could take the most barren, nutrient poor soil and bring forth a southerner's rainforest. Every year her vegetable garden overflowed with collared greens, corn, tomatoes, and of course, being in the South, watermelons. She grew watermelons so large that they surely outweighed my tiny five year old body. I was always happy to spend time with Nana in the sun and soil.

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