As a child growing up in Bicknell, Indiana, we had a big yard and a large garden. The garden provided much of our diet in those days: tomatoes, green beans, potatoes, cabbage, cucumbers, corn, zucchini and anything else my mom could can or freeze. She bought peaches and we picked cherries or blackberries that she could can and store in a room in our basement. We had enough until the next spring planting season.
I loved the planting part; not so much the picking. Mom would hire the man down the street to till our garden with a single plow pulled by a horse. Watching the soil turn into rows and smelling that fresh dirt was intoxicating. Then, scrambling over the rows, searching for worms was even better. By the time I was in sixth grade we had a small tiller that I could operate. When the weeds started to grow, I couldn't wait to take that tiller down between the rows of tomatoes or corn and watch the magic of the tines roll those weeds, pulling and cutting them into mulch. Then we moved.
Some 50 years have passed, but I can still smell the dirt. On a small scale, with patio containers and dirt in bags, I attempt to grow a tomato or two. I'm not usually successful and head for the Farmer's Market in Columbus, Indiana, hoping to score that one tomato with just the right ripeness, feel and sweetness. I discovered that heirloom tomatoes are my best bet. (I guess I am an heirloom as well.)
My love of the garden has led to my love of just about all living, growing things. When we travel I find myself shooting pictures of flowers, all kinds of flowers. I've decided to dedicate this post or two to some of my favorite flowers. Double-click on a photo and you can see them in full screen. Enjoy.
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