Our garden

Our garden has always been a fond memory, but I have a renewed appreciation now that I’m gardening for my own family. I know the scale of our Henning garden is out-of-proportion because I was small when we lived there, but I just remember it as gigantic.

I remember in particular ‘helping’ Dad with the roto-tiller, catching lots of butterflies (and likely stomping a few good plants in the process), the taste of fresh green beans right off the vine, and those days when the whole house smelled as Mom & Dad canned tomatoes. We made so much out of those tomatoes—we had spaghetti sauce, pizza sauce, and chili enough for the winter.

When I’m at the grocery store I peek into the carts of other parents as they check out. They’re full of microwavable mini-treats, TV dinners, and Chef Boy-R-Dee. I’m so thankful for all the great, fresh vegetables I was raised on. I can’t imagine how many additives and preservatives and trans-fats we missed because we were eating food from our own garden. Not long before we left Henning, I had a patch of acorn squash and… hmmm… sweet potatoes or potatoes too? I’m not sure if I did half the labor, but it was ‘mine’ and gave me the idea that gardening was within my reach.

Now, Diana and I have harvested two years of produce from our tiny garden. Even if it’s not a cost savings in the long run, we both love the physical activity, the purity of the food, and the miracle of growth. Nothing tastes better than food fresh from the garden. For both of us, gardening connects us with our families and our “roots”.