Giving Thanks: The Creation of Life

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Today I noticed that one of my square feet of potato plants was a wee bit wilty and yellowish. I thought initially it might be due to too little water (it being over 90 degrees for the third day in a row), or too much (I have been going to town with the hose lately.) Then I thought maybe it was overcrowding, given that I have four potato plants per square foot, and they are BUSHY. (Next year will definitely see a revision of the garden plan.)

Figuring that a gentle finger in the dirt would both evaluate the quality of the soil*, and the likelihood of spud overcrowding, I poked a teeny hole. Almost immediately my finger hit something hard, and definitely un-soil-like.

(Have you ever grown anything? This is my second year, and my first successful one. Last year was just a general experimentation with scattering seed and seeing what happened; this year Theron and I put a great deal of thought into planning and working our garden. It is my garden of amends, a living, growing testament to my ninth step commitment. And it's hard to tell who squeals loudest at the foliage unfurling and the fruits swelling -- Theron, or myself. But, I digress.)

With all the breathless excitement of amateur archeologists, and a few squeals on both our parts, Theron and I gently brushed away the surrounding earth. Given that the potato plants have just finished flowering, I was thinking there might be a few tiny nuggets buried. But no, Mother Nature, in all her charm, had chosen to bless us an apple-sized tuber monster. I uncovered, and uncovered, and kept uncovering. I'm sure as far as potatoes go, it's quite reasonably sized, but for us the wonder was growing along with our increasingly grubby fingernails.

I still don't know if overcrowding was the reason for the wilty plants, but there are now five less potatoes for that particular square foot to nourish.

And the potatoes in turn nourished us, served with steak, mushrooms, onions, and in Theron's case, a cheese stick, some bell pepper, and a handful of freshly-shelled peas -- also from the garden.

It is a blessing to be able to provide for our family from the fruits of our garden, and I give thanks for the gifts of Mother Nature.

* damp but not excessively wet

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