Grandma’s Garden
“My grandmother always had an acre of vegetables growing in her garden. She lived in a small prairie town in Alberta, Canada, where long, white winters were spent perusing seed catalogues and nursing tiny starts along in anticipation of spring. Every morning she’d go through the tidy rows and take note of what needed to be picked that day. She had a knack for knowing when a vegetable was just at its peak and ready to be eaten or preserved. Whether it was plump berries for breakfast; cucumber or tomato sandwiches at lunch; or buttered baby peas, creamy mashed potatoes, and assorted greens in a tossed salad at dinner; the fresh produce from her garden was always delectably fresh.
“For me growing up, Sunday dinners meant china, silver, crystal, white linen tablecloths, company manners, and since Grandma didn’t have a dishwasher, hours of bonding time with cousins in the kitchen as we washed and dried in shifts. Getting together as a family was an event, a celebration.
“Now I live in beautiful Monterey, CA, with a view of the ocean and a garden that has spread to exactly three pots on my porch. In the rush of daily living, my china and silver wait for a special occasion that will warrant the extra fuss of hand washing and drying. But every day at our dinner table, like my grandmother before me, I serve the freshest, healthiest produce I can get my hands on. Looking into the faces of those you love, it’s easy to see why some family traditions are worth keeping. Thanks, Grandma!”
