I got to pick spinach fresh from the dirt yesterday. And today.
There are times I miss my mountain home, it can get to be this deep ache in my soul where I am so homesick for the Rockies I can barely stand it.
But I have learned to love what I have as well. And much of what I love here is the long growing season. It’s being able to eat out of the garden before my Colorado friends have planted anything.
The dreadfully hot summers here do make for a wonderful corn and pumpkin picking. It’s looking unlikely we’ll have another frost here so I’ll be putting warm weather crops in starting this week. I have a large enough garden plot I can plant from early March until late June. And then again in August and September for another round of cool veggies.
I love my garden. Nearly as much as the mountains. I got sunburned this weekend because I was so into my chores I forgot to put more goo on my back.
There is so much I love about it I hardly know where to start or how to describe it. There’s the fresh air and exercise. Listening to the birds and being in tune with the seasons. There’s the time teaching the kids and the joy at the first little sprouts. There’s going months without buying produce, having more than enough veggies right out the back door. There’s out little neighborhood market where we buy and sell our surplus, spending Saturday mornings with friends and family. But the first harvests are one of my favorites. The first tomato, strawberry, sweet pea…. Those are still a while away before I get them but my mouth waters already.
And two dinners in a row I’ve gotten to eat my own spinach. It’s always better fresh picked than out of a bag. And the kids get so excited to eat their veggies when they helped pick them. I know what’s in the dirt, the water, know that there are no chemicals or sprays, know I don’t have to worry about the fuel to ship it or the handling it’s suffered to reach my table.