The fruits of labor

It's hard to remember April, when I was so deprived of green that ten broccoli plants seemed like a good idea; when it had been so long since I'd tasted a tomato fresh off the vine that I wondered whether a dozen plants would yield enough fruit to satisfy my desire for vegetable flesh. Now it's the end of August, and I feel like I'm drowning is a sea of homegrown edibles. I suppose that's a good problem to have.

I thought staying on top of the weeds was the hard part, but keeping pace with the bounty of my garden is the real challenge. The worst that could happen in June is that quack grass would stunt the carrots. I'd get to them eventually. But now, if I don't catch those beans before they go by, that's one more head of cauliflower from Mexico I'll have to buy come February. No wonder cultures celebrate the harvest with feasts of plenty. There truly is more than plenty.

I love the small gestures I can make with food. Sack of potatoes to a friend who didn't plant them; fennel to a neighbor who does me a small favor. I feel powerful, capable having grown my own food. I spend almost no money at the grocery store--just enough to buy bulk items like flour, rice, and spices. I haven't bought vegetables since May, and my meat all comes from local farmers. My milk, yoghurt, and cheese from a goat-tending neighbor. I feel like I'm in control. I set the terms; I have the means and the know-how to live according to my principles.

I'll tell you a secret. It's the miracle I discover each time I bury a seed under a layer of earth: it's just so easy! I don't mean to say it's not a lot of work, but the work isn't difficult. Squatting amid the weeds all morning can be hard on your hamstrings, yes, but if you are willing to squat, you'll get results. It might not come out perfect. Your squash patch might get besieged by earwigs. Your broccoli might shade out your cabbage. But given your time and attention, plants will create sustenance out of earth, sun, and water. They like it when you fuss; they love a little compost. Other than that, they don't really need you.