I spend hours, days, weeks, months ... lost in the joy of coaxing tiny sprouts out of their winter homes... tending them under the sun... and ultimately placing them on my table. I can only think that the love of doing this one thing is genetic. Since my grandmother's passing a few weeks ago, I've been on a journey into my ancestry. For some reason I'm driven to know... Who am I? Why do I do certain things... like certain things... think a certain way... etc., etc., etc. Why do I love to garden so much? After plying my Dad, aunts and uncles for photos and information... I now know... it IS genetic!
My dad... worked most of his life in computers, but he's also a man who can't help himself... he farms a few acres of antique oat varieties. Why?
Because... for the past 9 generations, my family has kept and tended the earth, planted seeds, watched them grow and fed the family and community.
My grandfather... a full-time farmer who fed his family through the great depression with his farm. During those days, farm families fared best. They had plenty of food. And my great grandfather before him... and so on, and on... back to as far as I have found in 1742 when my family immigrated to America on a sailing ship. They came... and they worked... and they passed their love of growing things on to me. I plan to pass it on to my Sophia too. (:
Today started out with a low, thick, misty kind of fog, that cleared before 10am. The sun came out and I walked out to the garden with my cup of coffee to see how my garden grows. Somehow I didn't make it back into the house until 4:00. Where does the time go?
Below is a picture list of what is growing out there:
Parsley, Sage, (Rosemary - no photo), and Thyme (:
One of my helpers - Borage, which brings in my favorite visitors, the bees.
...and a few wildflowers under the Walnut trees
Tomorrow I'll walk out to the garden with my coffee in hand ... IF I can find my mug from today... and maybe not come in until 4!