Father and gardener shares his blossoming home garden

By Vincent Trinh ’25

Tam Trinh began carefully wrapping, preventing the tree from succumbing to the elements of the coming winter. His eyes followed the thin string as it roped its way around the tree. He was unbothered by the surrounding flies and bees that buzzed about. He approached the tree, straightening his back to meet its height. He continued, now from a higher elevation, with mechanical focus and unshakable rigidity. There was no one watching him, no one to scrutinize or analyze his movements. Nothing but the sound of rustling plastic and the beaming of the sun’s scorching rays to stimulate his senses. Wearing a warm jacket, he was unbothered by the cool breeze. Nearing the end of his task, Trinh steadied his hands to achieve firmity and precision. Even when there was no need for it, he made sure to take his time. Soon, he made his way to another tree.

Trinh is a 48-year-old bespeckled Vietnamese man. He is a proud father of three and lives with his wife, Kim. His face is often seen covered in dirt after returning from his garden. Oftentimes, his daughters playfully point it out and share a laugh about it. That is, he usually has at least a little dirt on his face on a daily basis. His skin has endured the sun’s rays but you can sometimes see a bit of sunburn left. When it comes to daily routines, he has a cup of coffee with breakfast. He makes it a priority that his family eats breakfast together at the same time. His hobbies reflect the same principle as his job: hands-on. He takes satisfaction from an accomplished recreational task as he does his job.

“There is a lot of preparation in gardening, but it’s in a more informal environment. It’s more of a relaxation. Where I have a higher capacity to take risks just for enjoyment purposes,” Trinh says, raking leaves. When in the garden, Trinh rarely cracks any smiles. Keeping a stern face, each task accomplished is done with professionalism. Yet, he isn’t lying about his enjoyment of the activity. His two daughters can’t stress enough how much their father talks about the garden. The topic is brought up at the dinner table, while watching movies, and even on the road with his family. Perhaps it was only the cold that hardened his face.

Just after lunch, Trinh sits behind a window looking out to his garden from a sun deck. The sky was without a cloud, making way for the sun to brighten the array of leafless trees that sat beneath him. “In the winter, everything shuts down. The plants and trees all go to sleep. It gives me a break from the gardening, but I definitely miss it… I imagine what would happen in the coming summer and anticipate and plan what to plant next,” he says. He explains how some plants like Fuyu Persimmons could thrive in the cold. When asked how often things go wrong in the garden, he gives a good 3-second long pause, lowers his eyes, and takes a breath. His stature perked up as if he was caught off guard. The question was repeated, but there was no clear response as he tried to form the words. It was as if not only recent errors had gone through his mind, but the mistakes of the last 20 years. Trinh’s informal struggle with gardening had, in his mind, started with the first tree he planted. Eventually, words came out and he began to explain how he’s wrestled with the weather every year. It only took one windy day to bend the trees or to tug at fruits on the branches. For 20 years, there must have been a multitude of “windy days.”

When Trinh places a bowl of squash soup on his family’s dinner table, he has the warmest smile I’ve ever seen. After realizing that his children and wife have no interest in discussing the fruits of his labor, the smile quickly fades. Sitting directly across from him, I brought the soup up at some point in the conversation and watched the glint in his eyes return. Gradually, they cracked. His two girls put on a fake smile. His youngest, Angelica, shot out a firm thumbs up close to his face. The conversation continued surrounding his soup. They gave remarks such as “delicious,” “tasty,” or just plain “good.” Strangely enough, a genuine desire to discuss the soup developed from duplicity. Before he knew it, Trinh was enjoying a warm shared homegrown squash soup with his loving family.