When I was growing up in central
Kentucky, springtime meant gardening time. My father has kept a garden for as
long as I can remember, and even now, at age 70, he still has a small patch of
tomatoes, cucumbers, and peppers in his backyard.
As a child, I loved to sit with
him and pour over the Burpees catalog, exploring the seemingly infinite
varieties of tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers and corn. As he patiently made his
selections, I always wondered – was he going to give in to my mother and plant peas
even though he thought the yield wasn’t worth all the work? Would he plant pole beans or
bush beans? How many types of peppers would he grow this season?
After the seeds arrived, I loved
the trips to Southern States to pick up more plants, stakes, fertilizer, and
twine. In the evenings, I would sit for hours looking at all the baby vegetable
plants (laid out on my mother’s dining room table, much to her chagrin) and try and
guess which vegetable or fruit each one would turn into.
At last came time to do the actual
planting. The ground freshly tilled, my dad would let me follow behind him and
drop a seed into a hole he had dug or gently pat down the earth around one of
the plants. Then, after all the preparation and planting, the first tiny green
leaves began to poke their way out of the ground. You knew that soon all the
long effort would deliver its sweet reward–long summer days followed by a supper table laden
with so many fresh vegetables you could almost lose count.
As we prepare for the opening
day of the Cheverly Community Market, I am drawn again to these memories of my
childhood–the rich smell of deep brown earth, the sweet crunch
of the perfect tomato eaten straight from the garden, the promise of things to
come.
Liz.
1 comment:
I couldn't have said it better myself. I too, enjoyed time in the vege garden with my family. I agree with your dad about the peas. Love them fresh out of the garden, but it's so much work for so little that I haven't planted any for a few years.
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