As usual I had managed to get soil all over my face, up my arms, on my clothes and in my shoes. I sat on the edge of the bath tub and scrubbed my feet, arms and hands. Looking down I noticed a hole in my shirt - another casualty of the garden. I stopped putting money into clothes years ago after I destroyed yet another "good" piece of my wardrobe.
I poured myself a cold drink and sat on the porch resting my no longer twenty-five year old body. A thought crossed my mind:
"You know, green beans are only ninety-nine cents a pound at the supermarket this week."
I smiled to myself. This is true, but for me, the containers of green beans on my kitchen counter represent more than just dinner. They are the product of my labor and a physical manifestation of my skills as a gardener. They are my contribution to my family's well being and my own mental health. Every bean I grow and pick makes me more of a producer and less of a consumer.
When I look at the piles of produce in the kitchen I see satisfaction, investment, and pride in my ability and that I cannot buy at the supermarket for ninety-nine cents a pound.
I rose and made my way into the kitchen, inspired to use my hands to turn these beans into something worthy of my efforts. When I serve this dish at supper tonight I'll say, "I grew these," and my kids will roll their eyes and say, "We know, Mom."
Then, I'll look down at my plate and say to myself, "I grew these."
See you in the garden,