A Simple Bounty

Simplicity is “in” these days, at least in theory. In homes and offices, the word beckons from walls and knick-knacks urging us to “simplify.”

I’ve write often about simplifying. It’s an illusive goal, not easily achieved in our world of materialism and multitasking. We try to reduce, reuse and recycle, then head to Wal Mart to buy stuff to organize our stuff.

Despite an overwhelming number of failures, I achieved a small victory in simplifying this summer without even trying.

I became a farmer – an urban farmer. Inspired by my endlessly talented friend Becky and her handy hubby Leo, they helped us turn a previously useless hill in our backyard into our own little 8 X 14 farmer’s market.

People used to garden to produce the food they needed to survive. Now we don’t have time to garden – we’re too busy working to buy the food we need to survive.

This weekend, as we harvested our last bounty, I was reminded of the simple thrills this little patch of dirt created for our family.

The first thrill was watching our seeds sprout in the warmth of our sunniest room while snow and wind held us captive all spring. We cheered the day an infant tomato reached the roof of its mini greenhouse.

Planting was the second big thrill. I spent an entire evening kneeling beside my daughter and sprinkling seeds in the dirt. Neither of us knew what we were doing, but that didn’t matter.

A few weeks later, lettuce emerged and generated our third big thrill. We proudly shared this with grandparents and neighbors, multiplying these thrills exponentially. The kids delivered bags of fresh green leaves as if they were gold.

Yellow blossoms on tomatoes, cucumbers, peas and watermelon generated more thrills. The fact that those plain little flowers transform into big tasty vegetables is a rather impossible proposition. Our kids didn’t believe it would happen.

So when it did, and cute cucumbers, tiny tomatoes and mini watermelon appeared, we were thrilled again. For the rest of the summer, we savored the fruits of this garden. My son and I hid from the others to share the first perfectly ripe tomato. “Mom, can I go pick peas,” our four year old often asked, as hopefully as if he were angling for a new toy.

As we walked to the garden to clean it out for winter this weekend, I was sad. The limp, frost-bit plants boasted fruit that didn’t have time to ripen. I wanted to be depressed about the long winter that stood firmly between our next growing season, but that little garden would not allow it.

It thrilled us all afternoon. Seeing brilliant orange carrots surface among shovels of black dirt was like finding hidden treasures. Capturing dozens of ladybugs who were feasting on remaining cucumber leaves entertained the kids for hours.

And clean-up complete, the kids lingered long in the garden digging holes and moving dirt without a toy in site.

Our first garden was a great experiment in science, problem solving and innovation. We undertook gardening to generate good food for our family, which it did.

But its greatest bounty was the countless opportunities (and excuses) it gave us to hang out together, be outside, and slowdown enough to marvel at the wonders of our world.

That’s simplicity at its best.