Ever since I was 15 years old, I wanted a garden. Back then, I lived in an upper flat (you don’t even hear of those anymore unless you’re in Chicago or Brooklyn) but
I guess it was kind of a gift that I was surrounded by cement because
it forced me to plan my escape very early on. At that time, many of the
trees were dying from Dutch Elm Disease. I must have felt a strong
connection with nature because as the city would cut each tree down, it
would break my heart. Finally at the age of 26, I moved out to
Seattle. Even though, I was in the land of green, life seemed to keep getting in the way of the great garden caper - I guess I was too busy doing other things. Looking back now, none of it seems anywhere as important is it did then resulting in the fact that I didn’t have a garden until I was 43, a year after I married Joe.
When we did have a garden, we were living in West
Seattle in a little house that we just adored. We had five cats and a
parrot named Salsa who was meaner than any ex-con. She would actually
climb down onto the floor and stalk Joe while calling his name. It was
like being in some kind of trippy scary movie. But when Salsa was in
her cage and because there are very few bugs in Seattle everyone would
leave their doors open. Our next door neighbors, Bill and Verna, a
young couple, were as animal crazy as us. With the open door policy the cats were free to
go into each other’s houses and steal the other’s food. Our property
was surrounded by blackberry bushes making for perfect cat forts, where
they would hide out and wait for some unfortunate little mouse.
Memories in the Garden
Joe and I soon dug up the entire backyard and
planted our first garden. Everything we planted grew. The first seed
that sprouted and broke ground caused such awe that from that moment on I
was hooked. At the time, it was a bit Utopian, as I was writing my
play and book, working in the garden and hanging out with all of the
animals – a truly special time. We didn’t have any money, life had never
been simpler and never happier. I just heard from Verna who’s memories
are as fond as ours. She reminded me of the time, it was mine and
Joe’s anniversary, us with no money, celebrating at home, Joe and I
turned up the stereo and slow danced in the garden. I had forgotten
all about it, as Joe and I have so many wonderful memories, many of them
attached to growing, cooking and eating food from the garden.
I can’t explain to people who don’t grow their own food why it’s so important to me or any other gardener. The obvious is that it is really important to know how hard it is to put food on the table and/or to keep us fed. I just came in today, picking lettuce, washing it, then picking out the bad leaves, then drying it on a towel. But that doesn’t happen until after a couple of months of watering and weeding and keeping our fingers crossed that Buddy, the garden cat, will keep the bunnies out. We can’t count on him like we use to, since he is getting older and naps frequently. And if I think lettuce is labor intensive, don’t even get me started on the peas! But they are amazing and taste like candy so growing my own food is worth all of the effort – sort of!
But maybe the main reason some of us feel such a
need to be in garden is that in this busy world it is too easy to be cut
off from nature. Because of this disconnect, I feel that we are cut
off from the earth – which is part of our physical consciousness. I
know from recent experience that if I’m not connected to the earth then I
have no real sense of how I fit in to this evolution that is constant
or just what is real. Because let’s face it, when you die, do you care
how much money is in the bank, or what designer clothes you own, or how
popular you were, or how you fit into the social status. Of course
not. None of that matters because they are manmade illusions. As much
as I can, my feet are literally in dirt – no shoes, no garden gloves -
feeling the connection. I mentioned in something I wrote sometime ago,
that in a small Mexican village, when someone begins to exhibit erratic
behavior, the villagers tie them to a tree until they calm down. I have
to say, it makes sense to me.
In addition, nature makes me feel grateful. It
births a calm knowing that all of what is around me – every human and
living thing has purpose. It presents a bigger picture than the one I
might have without this connection. It is our way of seeing all that is
good in life and all that it has to offer. So maybe the theme of this newsletter is just a reminder for all of us to slow down and breathe. Take in what is around you. How about that tree in the front yard? How long has it been there to protect you and give solace to so many living things? Some of which are too small to see, until you begin to pay attention.
Well, enough of the writing about nature because it is another glorious morning
and like every day, the to-do list is long. I have to rehang bird
houses, weed several beds, turn the compost, lay compost down on the
beds that are done producing and pick more peas. But with my feet in
dirt, the way I look at it is - the longer the list, the luckier I am.
From my garden to yours…………
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| The Pond |
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| Peas |
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| The Pond |
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| Giant Onions |
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| Mustard Greens |
Mustard Greens Recipe
Ingredients
· 1/2 cup thinly sliced onions
· 2 cloves garlic, minced
· 1 Tbsp. olive oil
· 1 pound mustard greens, washed and torn into large pieces
· 2 to 3 Tbsp. chicken broth or vegetable broth (vegetarian option)
· 1/4 teaspoon salt
· 1/4 teaspoon pepper
· 1/4 teaspoon dark sesame oil
Method
1 In
a large sauté pan, sauté onions in olive oil over medium heat until the
onions begin to brown and caramelize, about 5 to 10 minutes. Add the
minced garlic and cook a minute more, until fragrant.
2 Add
the mustard greens and broth and cook until the mustard greens are just
barely wilted. Toss with sesame oil. Season with salt and pepper.
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