Picking something from my garden in the morning
and having it for lunch that same day
is my ticket to pure joy.
This simple salad of
*romaine lettuce
*leftover roast
*monterey jack cheese
and
*my tomatoes
makes me feel frugal and healthy and like my kinfolk all rolled into one.
I hope you have something like that in your life too.
Dear Daughters,
I have been crying at the drop of a hat lately.
Point in fact-
This afternoon as I walked through my newly named Esperanza (hope) garden and rounded the Anacahuita tree I planted last summer (Wild Olive tree),
I saw these-
and I was UNDONE.
Baby tomatoes-
hatched in my new raised beds.
I should have given them more credit-
I should have given myself more credit.
I planted them and fertilized them and watered them- not in their faces because who likes that- but slowly and consistently at ground level making sure I didn’t disturb their growing.
And so I stood there and cried.
And I said thank you God for this gift and finally maybe I have something that I want to write.
All that because I was teary-eyed and God thought enough already.
I stood at my beds and I cried and laughed thinking about the concrete owl my daughter brought
me from the flea market and about this discussion with my father earlier this week, as he stood at
the foot of my tomato beds.
I was very quiet waiting to hear what he had to say.
My father: ”Sister? These sure are pretty.”
Me: “Thank you Daddy.”
My father: Clearing his throat, “I think your tomato cages are upside down.”
And so dear daughters, I thought I’d have a little fun and tease him and make Nonnie (my mother)
smile up in heaven, and I said- as she probably said many times to him,
”I don’t believe they are.”
Dear Daughters,
These tomatoes,
and the others I gather from my garden as they ripen,
are feeding
my soul
in ways I want you to know one day .
This is how.
They allow me to pretend I am Grandmother Mills,
with a bonnet on in her garden in Ricardo.
They allow me, in this modern world,
to be who I was created to be.
They are a blessing and a gift
from God.
They are frustrating and worrisome- as most good things are.
They are imperfect-
which is my absolute favorite state of being.
So find something somewhere you can plant,
that you can stand over with a hose slowly running,
and see what I mean.
Love,
Mom
***
Linking to:
Cowgirl Up @ http://farmhouseporch.blogspot.com
and
Coastal Charm @ http://linda-coastalcharm.blogspot.com
