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I placed two fingers into the dirt and carved out perfectly sized holes. The seeds spilled out of my hands and I peeked down into their newly created homes to see if they landed safely. As I gently pushed the soil to cover the seeds, I hoped I could give them the right love and attention they would need to grow into beautiful, green bundles of joy.
As it turned out, tending to this lettuce garden 10 years ago was a lot like raising children. I worried about them, I talked to them, and I stared at them hoping they were going to be okay. I fed them, and when I left them, I had to get a “sitter” to water them. I covered them with only the best manure I could find, and when the plants started to sprout and grow, I would bring people over to show them off. I was actually proud of my little leafy babies.
Having such a deep connection with the land and my food was a powerful experience. Not ever having an understanding of growing food, the process intimidated me. I didn’t think I could do it. And like other adventures one tries for the first time, there was an intense fear of failing. The thought of standing over a bed of wilted, weak looking lettuce was one I wanted to avoid. It would have been some kind of negative reflection on my parenting.
In the last few years there has been a movement towards growing your own food. People are planting away in their backyards or in pots on decks, patios, porches and balconies. Not only are they doing something practical, cost effective and green, but above all, something that feels good. Gardening feels productive. It’s one of the few things we can still do that our iPhone can’t. We can get dirty. We can share growing stories with our neighbors and friends or hand them some freshly picked snap peas to enjoy with dinner that evening.
Through growing lettuce, and being successful at it, I felt strong. If I could grow food, I could do anything.
With three kids and a very full life raising them, I choose not to put the time or energy into a garden. Instead, in the summer months, I rely on Dedham’s amazing farmers market to help feed my family and calm my “need to buy local” conscience. Dedham’s Farmers Market – in the Eastern Avenue lot – has an unbelievable assortment of fruits, vegetables, fish, meats, lobster, jam, pasta and cheese, and is literally unlike one I’ve ever visited. It seems to grow each year like a well-established patch of asparagus.
I placed two fingers into the dirt and carved out perfectly sized holes. The seeds spilled out of my hands and I peeked down into their newly created homes to see if they landed safely. As I gently pushed the soil to cover the seeds, I hoped I could give them the right love and attention they would need to grow into beautiful, green bundles of joy.
As it turned out, tending to this lettuce garden 10 years ago was a lot like raising children. I worried about them, I talked to them, and I stared at them hoping they were going to be okay. I fed them, and when I left them, I had to get a “sitter” to water them. I covered them with only the best manure I could find, and when the plants started to sprout and grow, I would bring people over to show them off. I was actually proud of my little leafy babies.
Having such a deep connection with the land and my food was a powerful experience. Not ever having an understanding of growing food, the process intimidated me. I didn’t think I could do it. And like other adventures one tries for the first time, there was an intense fear of failing. The thought of standing over a bed of wilted, weak looking lettuce was one I wanted to avoid. It would have been some kind of negative reflection on my parenting.
In the last few years there has been a movement towards growing your own food. People are planting away in their backyards or in pots on decks, patios, porches and balconies. Not only are they doing something practical, cost effective and green, but above all, something that feels good. Gardening feels productive. It’s one of the few things we can still do that our iPhone can’t. We can get dirty. We can share growing stories with our neighbors and friends or hand them some freshly picked snap peas to enjoy with dinner that evening.
Through growing lettuce, and being successful at it, I felt strong. If I could grow food, I could do anything.
With three kids and a very full life raising them, I choose not to put the time or energy into a garden. Instead, in the summer months, I rely on Dedham’s amazing farmers market to help feed my family and calm my “need to buy local” conscience. Dedham’s Farmers Market – in the Eastern Avenue lot – has an unbelievable assortment of fruits, vegetables, fish, meats, lobster, jam, pasta and cheese, and is literally unlike one I’ve ever visited. It seems to grow each year like a well-established patch of asparagus.
I was there when the opening bell rang last Wednesday and walked around on a culinary high to be able to buy fresh, delicious, local food that didn’t have to travel hundreds or thousands of miles to land on my plate. If I can’t farm, I’m glad there are those a few towns over who do and share their crops with me.
After recently reading Barbara Kingsolver’s, “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle,” I’m sold on the idea that it is as important that my food be grown locally as it be grown pesticide free. I never really thought about the fact that my tomato came from the Middle East or that a banana from Central or South America. Today’s food needs a passport while local farmers are struggling to survive and make ends meet. When did we go from eating seasonally to needing a mango at Christmas?
I am so accustomed to our super size supermarkets that carry everything all year round, that I have completely lost touch with what food grows during what season. Thanks to the farmers market, I get a weekly lesson in “Vegetable Seasons 101.” I see how each week the colors change; the rhubarb I find one week is gone the next.
Seeing your neighbors gather outside amongst farmers is very different than running into a neighbor at a harshly lit supermarket (with the exception of Whole Foods that seems to be perfectly lit). There is something very organic about a chat at the farmers market. My Wednesday afternoons are about sharing recipes for an uncommon vegetable, the great finds that week, or having my kids running around us or participating in some fun activity. Getting to know your community through food - it feels as healthy as eating well.
This locally grown food that I’m putting into the bodies of my children feels much like dropping those lettuce seeds into the soil. The idea of cultivating land and cultivating a family are very similar. A farmer is thinking about her crops as much as a mother thinks about her children. There are unforeseen circumstances that can affect who the crop or the child will become. While you may be a good parent, it comes down to genes and DNA. A good farmer needs sunny skies with the occasional rain shower.
While growing lettuce, I felt the rush of seeing the fruits of my labor pay off. While shopping the farmers market I’ll celebrate and compensate the efforts of dedicated farmers. There is something very satisfying in that too.
Dedham resident Jennifer Barsamian’s blog Dedham Rocks can be found at www.dedhamrocks.com.
