Aren’t they beautiful? The fancy french radishes, and black seeded simpson? All lined up in a row, reaching upwards towards the warm sun. Grow, babies, grow!
My grandparents immigrated to Canada from the Netherlands after World War II. My grandfather was a gardener in Holland, but in Canada he stirred paint for GM to pay the bills. When he was home he tended his magnificent garden. Even as a child, my sister and I knew that his garden was magical. You could walk out into the garden and pick yourself any wonder of things to eat: carrots, peas, beans, tomatoes, cantaloupe, cucumbers… Don’t even mention all of the flowers that he tended just because of their beauty. I loved that place.
In the years since my grandfather’s passing, I have come to love gardening myself. It is one of the ways that I can provide for my family, much in the same way my grandfather did. Digging in the dirt is also where I feel most connected to my ancestors. Each plant in my garden has a story which comes flooding back once you start to wander through my gardens.
This year, I may have gone a little nightshade crazy. No, seriously. I have 11 different varieties of heirloom tomatoes that I picked up at the public market, and a ton of Matt’s Wild Cherry tomatoes seedlings that sprung up after the harvest last year, and I think a half dozen of some Romas from a friend. And then there are the peppers. My husband loves spicy food so we decided to dabble in hot peppers this year. Now I have about 10 hot pepper plants too. So stop on by if you planted some basil or cilantro… not so much if you are on a macrobiotic diet.