One of the great things about living in my town in Michigan is that it is farm country.  There is just something to be said about living where food is grown.  Most areas around here have festivals celebrating their major crop, thus we have pickle, corn, and potato festivals to name a few.

I spent a lot of time with my Granny (great grandma) and my Grams (grandma) so I always grew up with an appreciation for the garden.  Had you ever enjoyed their strawberry shortcake, or wilted lettuce, or just about anything from their garden, you would understand.  The home my family settled into in central Texas came with cherry tomato plants coming up wild, which we loved.  Later I would learn that cherry tomatoes are practically a weed, but so it goes.

One of the truly great things about our house is that we have just over an acre of land.  We started a garden plot that just keeps growing and growing.  My Grams gave me a few of her strawberry plants.  They ultimately spread into such a productive area that I ended up selling the extras, mostly because my friends just didn’t seem to feel right taking quarts of excess berries without paying for them.  I didn’t complain, because after all, I don’t have a paying job.

The kids have always been fascinated with our garden.  If I lost sight of Tater in the fall, chances were good he was off snacking on the Concord grapes.  His second word was “twactah”.  Linus loves corn, so he always wants to help plant it.  I gave up on straight rows once the boys insisted on helping me plant.  I did not care.

The boys would help me pick tomatoes, though they needed constant reminding that we only picked the red ones and not the green ones.  I had cherry tomatoes coming up wild and would let them grow, much to hubby’s dismay.  I would load up the boys and we would drop off grocery bags of cherry tomatoes to those we knew who did not have a garden.  Too many cucumbers (they are called pickles here) and about to go camping?  We bagged them up and dropped them off at the senior apartment complex.  They love to get fresh produce you cannot always afford on a fixed income, or if you cannot drive to go find them cheap.

My MIL brought me some raspberry plants from her boss a few years ago.  They are taking off like mad, and I suspect I might have enough to sell this year.  Sadly, half of my strawberry patch died a few winters ago, so I haven’t recreated that one flush year.

But we keep planting.  It isn’t about the money, though that was nice.

No, we keep planting.  We feed so many members of our family with our harvest.  We planted asparagus a few years back, because my mom loves it so.  My Grams gives me seeds to plant since she only has a tiny garden plot behind her mobile home.  We grow cabbages for his Polish heritage; my MIL can work miracles with cabbage.  Radishes are a must, even though I know I shouldn’t eat them.  Green beans are a favorite of my Grams, aunt, and second cousin.  My family doesn’t like that.  Peas are a given, even though they seldom make it out of the garden and into the freezer.  We eat them before that can happen.  I discovered I can grow carrots.  Peppers and tomatoes are a good thing.  Don’t make me eat goulash with store bought tomatoes!  I simply cannot do it.

I enjoy gardening and canning.  My kids will help me can the tomatoes.  They will help me process the tomatoes with the Victorio my aunt gave me.  It also does grapes, so we can make grape jelly.  They fight over who gets to turn the crank on it.

I like my kids to see where food comes from.  The work that goes into it on every level.  They are picky eaters, yes.  But they know about food.  They have volunteered that they would gladly eat chicken noodle soup if it was cooked from Randy the rooster!

Gardening is a pleasure for me.  Not only does it cut our food bill down, but it is great for stress.  Yanking weeds out by the roots?  Very therapeutic.  Going to pick dinner out of the garden?  Priceless.

I do like to share what we grow.  It makes me feel good.  We may not have a lot of money to give for charity, but we can help in other ways.

And maybe, just maybe the boys will start to eat what we grow.

A mommy can hope, right?