Dirt On Our Hands

Son → Dad

Father's Day · Folk

Dad, I took over your garden this spring — same plot, same stubborn tomatoes. Kneeling in that dirt, it finally hit me: all those Saturdays out there were never really about the vegetables. You were teaching me to slow down, do a thing right, and wait for it — and you never once said it out loud. I think about that every time I lose my patience with something that just needs time. Thank you for all of it, Dad. The tomatoes are coming in good this year. You'd be proud.

0:003:01

Playlist

Choose a song to play

48 / 156
  • 2:48
  • 2:41
  • 3:13
  • 2:45
  • 3:08
  • 2:27
  • 2:58
  • 2:32
  • 2:57
  • 2:27
  • 3:00
  • 3:34
  • 3:35
  • 2:42
  • 2:47
  • 2:50
  • 2:32
  • 3:19
  • 2:44
  • 2:47
  • 3:16
  • 2:27
  • 2:37
  • 2:33
  • 2:45
  • 2:35
  • 2:45
  • 3:28
  • 3:01
  • 2:59
  • 2:28
  • 3:14
  • 2:42
  • 2:50
  • 2:40
  • 2:29
  • 2:55
  • 3:25
  • 2:23
  • 3:09
  • 2:34
  • 2:51
  • 2:37
  • 2:47
  • 2:30
  • 2:33
  • 2:27
  • 3:17

Song story

Background

Cole is 25 and just took over the little backyard garden his dad Greg planted every spring of his childhood. Kneeling in the same dirt, he keeps thinking about the patience his dad taught him out there, one tomato season at a time, never in so many words. For Father's Day he made a warm folk song about everything he learned with dirt under his nails.

Message

Dad, I took over your garden this spring — same plot, same stubborn tomatoes. Kneeling in that dirt, it finally hit me: all those Saturdays out there were never really about the vegetables. You were teaching me to slow down, do a thing right, and wait for it — and you never once said it out loud. I think about that every time I lose my patience with something that just needs time. Thank you for all of it, Dad. The tomatoes are coming in good this year. You'd be proud.

Lyrics

Line-synced. Click a lyric to jump.

20 lines