More than Just Food: Why I Love My Veggie Garden

Last night my partner, daughter and I sat around pulling freshly-washed kale leaves off their stems, inspecting each one for aphids, and giving the odd stem to our kale-loving dog, Clara. My partner arranged them in the dehydrator, and this morning I took them out and poked them carefully through a funnel into a jar, using a wooden spoon that's entirely the wrong shape for the job, but manages. I thought to myself how much more efficient the job would be if I had a giant funnel! I could dump the whole bowl of leaves on and just press it in with a perfectly-sized dowel--or something. And immediately I knew that was wrong. Hastening the job would mean taking the love out of it. I'd lose all the time for happy thoughts about warm winter potatoes and casseroles full of our homegrown kale, and all the culinary experiments to come. In these somewhat inefficient chores, I find time for creative thinking, and, more importantly, appreciation of my life and the choices I've made.

We started growing vegetables in earnest at the beginning of the pandemic, imagining that it might be a good idea, in case supply chains were disrupted. Well they sure were disrupted, although more by climate and political disasters than by covid, in the end. And then the inflation. Now, as we slowly learn what we can grow in our yard, and how to make the most of our climate and opportunities, we save probably over a thousand dollars a year growing our own veggies, and on top of that we have a kind of food security that was unavailable to us, before. This benefit grows every year as we improve our skills and methods. If we really just *can't* buy food anymore, we're reasonably confident that we can grow enough to survive, as long as we find a space to plant more grains and potatoes. We've developed an understanding of feeding ourselves that we sorely lacked, before.

But what kind of life would ours be if the job of feeding ourselves was a burden? I don't want to live through hard times in misery and desperation! I want to find the positives in whatever our capitalist decline throws at us. And gardening is a huge positive, if I choose for it!! Do I like the endless weeding? No! Do I like watering again and again, watching things die fruitless after I nurtured them for months, and running the well dry just trying to save it all? NO! The stress and the worry? NO! But ... I'm saving myself a different stress and worry, and I'm learning to live with these ups and downs that are and have always been a part of farming... just rather more extreme now with climate change. I'm learning to make use of the monotonous tasks of farming as space for creativity and mindfulness.

So this year we had an extremely late and cold spring. There was a bitter cold snap just as the apples flowered, and very few were pollinated, since the bees were in hiding. When summer finally arrived in late July, the bees hid again during a heat-wave just as the beans flowered, so we had very few beans in the end, too. Heat waves also killed off the summer lettuces and two of our hens, and scorched our peppers so they rotted before they ripened. The very late summer burned on into mid-October, with a deepening drought that threatens to kill all kinds of things, across our province. This sounds like a disaster movie. Or the Grapes of Wrath. But some things, like the brassicas, did thrive, and yesterday--the last sunny day before the much-prayed-for-rains--we harvested what needs to stay dry, and were reminded of the goodness in this life we chose.

Apples, quinces, kale, tomatoes, herbs, celery, cauliflower, broccoli, and seeds for planting next year all were gathered and carried in to our kitchen table. Even three last zucchinis! As I mentioned, we spent the evening processing kale, and we'll likely process the apples and quinces this weekend, while revelling in the glorious, glorious rain. We're planning to just sit under our covered porch and watch the rain fall, this afternoon. There is SO MUCH to be grateful for. I'm so incredibly glad we chose to grow our food together, to learn what we need to know in order to do so, and to develop an appreciation for all the things that make life possible: the seasons, the rain and sun, the persistence of life and good spirits, and loved ones with whom to relish it all.