It wasn’t until the morning of Halloween that I remembered – it was my father’s birthday.

(Yes, really. Halloween. And for extra holiday flair, my older brother’s is on Christmas. Clearly my family loved a theme.)

My dad would have been 97 years old.

He passed away when I was in my early thirties .. so over three decades ago now .. but he still sneaks into my thoughts, especially around this time of year.

He was a high-ranking diplomat for the South Korean government, sharp as a tack, with a brain wired for politics and a knack for fixing just about anything.

Early in his career, he was offered a full scholarship to a top university in the U.S., but he turned it down because, well, he had a wife and four kids to support.

My dad was nothing if not practical.

I like to think I got that part from him, though my version of practical involves spreadsheets and soil tests rather than international negotiations.

But where he could remember the tiniest policy detail, I can barely remember what day it is.

I’ve always been terrible with dates.

If you were to ask me what year I graduated high school or college, I’d stare at you blankly. … that’s me.

In most couples, there’s usually one who forgets their anniversary .. guess who?

One year in my adolescence, I even forgot my own birthday.

We must’ve been busy, because everyone else forgot too.

It wasn’t until the next day that my dad suddenly said, “Wait a minute, yesterday was your birthday!”

What bothered me most wasn’t that they forgot, it’s that I did. (Clearly, this is genetic.)

Later in life, my father turned that same restless curiosity toward the sea.

Fishing became his obsession. He’d go out twice a day with the tide and before long he was rebuilding his own boat engines and fixing everyone else’s too.

He was that guy, the neighborhood mechanic-slash-therapist. (Honestly, I could use that kind of multi-talented neighbor right now.)

He passed away shortly after his 60th birthday.

In Korea, turning sixty is a milestone called Hwangap, a huge celebration marking the completion of the zodiac cycle and a long, well-lived life.

We were lucky enough to celebrate that with him.

And the photos from that day are the last we have of him, surrounded by family, and dressed proudly in his traditional hanbok, looking every bit the dignified patriarch he was (though knowing him, he probably still had fishing tackle in his pocket).

This Halloween, I found myself thinking about him again.

Maybe it’s all this writing, it dredges up old memories the way the tide brings back forgotten shells.

But mostly, it reminded me how lucky I am to have had a father who worked hard, learned endlessly, and loved fiercely (even if he couldn’t remember my birthday either).

Farm Happenings

I was lamenting the shortening of days before, but now, forget about it.

It’s pitch black by 6 PM, and honestly, I might as well go to bed then too.

I just keep telling myself: hang on until the shortest day of the year. After that, the light lengthens, even if just by seconds. (You know how incrementalism works.)

For now, I’m still out cleaning and prepping the outdoor planting rows, but most of my time will soon shift indoors: organizing, catching up on admin work, and attempting to locate the scissors I’ve somehow lost in five different places.

Still on my planting list: those Dutch iris bulbs delivered last week. The peonies and tulip bulbs hopefully on their way soon. We haven’t had our first frost yet, so the heirloom mums are still gloriously blooming .. reluctant to call it a season.

Meanwhile, I’ve started making sample door swags, wreaths, and winter bouquets for preorder.

Keep an eye out, they’re coming soon!

And stay tuned for something very special: our first-ever Black Friday sale.