Getting dirty 

Growing up my mom had a garden. Several actually. She had vegetable gardens and a beautiful herb garden transformed from an old dog pen for our Great Danes of the past. Some of my fondest memories of my momma center around her standing in the kitchen with a basket full of fresh basil on the counter along with her food processor, pine nuts, olive oil and an amazing wedge of asiago cheese waiting to be miraculously transformed into Bev’s Famous Pesto.  Anyone who ever tasted this amazing concoction knows of what I speak. We hoarded those jelly  jars in the freezer all winter long and savored every special meal that had the fortunate opportunity to have a dollop of heavenly goodness stirred into it. (See I told you I come by this love for food honestly) 

  
I helped her tend the garden some. Probably not as much as I should have and certainly not as much as I would like to go back and do if I had the chance. But of the times I did, I remember loving it. She took it seriously; but we always found reasons to giggle and share some iced tea together on the porch afterwards. (She had the best giggle, by the way). Getting dirty and tending the land with someone brings a bond that is so powerful. 

So I’ve had it in my mind for a long time to have my own garden. And the ache has grown stronger since my mom passed away. As if she will be closer to me the deeper and dirtier I get in that soil. And I joke that it’s all my (amazing) husband’s fault that I haven’t had one to date. {He is pretty anal retentive about his yard, you see. And putting a big raised garden in the middle of it is definitely messing with his feng shui.}. But, that’s not the real reason. I just couldn’t get over the mental hurdle of starting. I think I’ve purchased seed packets every Spring for the last 6 years but that’s as far as I’ve gotten. Kind of similar to this whole food addiction thing. I’ve purchased the books and the tools to hang up my habit but have never pulled the trigger. I guess it’s part laziness and part fear of failure. (Regarding both the garden and getting off the food crack). 

But – the honest truth is – I’m tired of not starting and feeling sad about something I never even really tried. Just buying the seeds or downloading the heathy food book is not enough. 

I’m certain there will be plants that will die and days I don’t feel like watering or weeding. (Just like there will be days I can’t resist a darn sip of wine) And, I’m certain I will get frustrated when my kids don’t share my same enthusiasm for he dirt- but I’m most certain that’s when I’ll feel my momma the most. 

So, today we did it (the whole fam-damily). We loaded up the car and bought more than just the seeds! The wood is ready to frame up the box (thank you amazing husband) the starting pots are purchased, and it’s becoming a reality. 

Now it’s time for me to get dirty.  

5 thoughts on “Getting dirty 

  1. I can smell the fresh basil already as I sit here and look out onto our snow covered deck here in good ol’ Indiana! Sow those seeds Katherine…you will reap far more than dirt in this new adventure!

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  2. Just remember your grandpa and his 90′ yes, 90 tomato plants which I tied up with his patients confiscated panty hose! Your momma is beaming at you! Yes she did have a marvelously wicked giggle!

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About the honest girl

40ish wife, mother, sister, cousin, friend, Christian, Catholic, sinner, writer and singer. Just trying to be honest about it all.