My first garden was sown the year that I was married. I planted it on July 1st, we did not have very much money and I finally felt like an adult. So I planted a garden. My dad laughed and said I planted way too late. My mom told me I was crazy. They indulged me. My new husband was too busy farming to think about it but he encouraged me. That year, I had the craziest garden I've ever had. We had a late fall and frost did not come until the end of September. Enough time for me to harvest everything I had planted. My dad shook his head and my mom said beginner's luck. I had soooo much that I shared and it made me feel really good.
I love tilling the soil and feeling it between my fingers. I love the smell of rich soil. There's a kind of peaceful vibration whenever I garden and the stress rolls off of my shoulders. The first taste of the season's potatoes. Fresh spinach steaming on the stove to be eaten with a pad of butter. Finding the biggest tomato ripening on the vine and making the season's first tomato sandwich. I love a rain storm and the way the garden almost hums after having two inches dumped onto it. I love picking crunchy radishes and dipping them into blue cheese sauce before popping them into my mouth. I love having way too much and sharing with others.
Two years ago, I had a crazy crop of cucumbers, we could not eat them fast enough. So I took a dozen long english cukes to work and told them to help themselves. The guys washed the cukes, cut them up and put salt and pepper on them and had them for coffee break. I so enjoyed that they enjoyed my veggies.
Sometimes I wonder if everyone had a bit of a garden how much healthier we'd all be, how many less hungry there would be in the world. You don't have to go to a poor country to see poor....they are living across the street, go to school with our kids, sit in the pew beside you at church.