I’m writing this a few minutes before lunchtime.
I’ll make a short detour to my garden and collect just enough tiny ripe tomatoes to garnish my salad.
Gardens in my youth covered a portion of an acre. Crops were referenced by rows or half rows. Bedding plants were purchased by the half dozen or more. And they required work. Hours with the hoe in the never ending battle against weeds and dirt that tended to resemble pottery after a hot, dry day. Multiple trips with buckets of water to aid new plants to get established.
The harvest began with peas, salad greens, and strawberries. This also signaled the beginning of canning season. Pint jars, quart jars, boiling water bath. Cucumbers to scrub. Beans to cut. Peas to shell. Each crop in season – from a few days to a few weeks – graced our farm table as fresh produce and filled jars on the basement shelf.
I don’t depend on my garden for a year’s worth of vegetables. My two tomato plants give me just enough…to garnish a daily salad, satisfy my palate, and please my eye.