Growing Pains

Vegetables have feelings too.

As he has each year for the past fifteen, my husband planted a vegetable garden in early spring. When we lived in Washington it was a small plot located in a community garden some distance from our home, but here in Maine the garden is on our property, right outside our living room windows. Right now Mitch is out there checking on things and I can hear him talking to his vegetables, saying things like "Good morning, how is everyone?" and "You're looking good!" I once found this practice alarming, but have since understood that it's no different than me talking to our cat, except we won't eventually eat the cat.

Starting last week the lettuce and radishes have been ready for harvest, and so we have had a lettuce salad for dinner every night, like it or not. With radishes, of course, mustn't forget them. When I complain that I am sick of lettuce, Mitch warns, "Too bad, there's plenty more coming." I moan in despair. Hoping to comfort me, he says, "God wants us to eat lettuce right now." I say God has nothing to do with it. We discuss this over salad.

There's bok choy that has to be eaten today! Soon enough it will be peas that we have to eat -- bushels of them -- and then beans and squash and kale and carrots and peppers and tomatoes and chard. I flatly refuse to eat chard, and that's final. Mitch says it will be ready "very soon" and I should "mentally prepare." Sometimes I wish he played golf instead.