Red and Yellow

I never thought I would be much for gardening, and I'm probably still not. Our little garden patch is probably 8 feet by 4 feet. We planted four tomato plants, string beans, peppers, basil, parsley, and six zucchini plants. The zucchini plants were my back-up confidence booster plants because, of course, anyone can grow zucchini. I figured people were always trying to give away their zucchini. If I killed everything else, at least the zucchini would grow - and I would have a LOT of it to give me false hope that I do have a green thumb.

All six zucchini plants were killed by the "squash vine borer." The morning I realized they were doomed was a traumatic one.

BUT, our tomatoes are doing fabulous. We pick a few little yellow cherry tomatoes everyday. We've eaten one each of the yellow and red beefsteaks, and I've got three more yellow ones sitting on the counter. Tucker ate our first purple one, which I still haven't forgiven him for. Supposedly it was good, because he ate everything, stem and all. The beans are just now starting to flower and develop little green beanlets.

There's something magical and life-giving about taking a small part in creating something to feed our bodies. I find myself wanting to take pictures of everything I harvest from the garden, like I nurtured and birthed them or something. I know this is somewhat cliche right now, but I have a deeper understanding of the work that goes into the food appearing on my plate. And I have a greater respect for those who work to put that food on my plate while at the same time ensuring their processes are sustainable.

It's simple: seeds go in the ground, plants sprout, their leaves stretch toward the sun, photosynthesis turns sunlight into fuel, and I get to eat it.