There is a chance, I suppose, that since I’ve deserted it our sweet little garden has runneth over, but I’m not holding my breath. I’m visiting my mother, and she has shown me how a real garden behaves. It’s not that my cute little berry patch back in Colorado isn’t special; it is. But next to this macho New York garden with its prime beach-front location and vines reaching for the stars, mine seems a bit underwhelming.
Look closely. Can you find my girls? That’s them being consumed by greenery as they munch their way through grandma’s garden. My what big spinach you’ve got granny…now how about you get it to spit out the children?
It’s not just the size of her prolific garden, or the fact that it’s situated on a piece of real estate that makes broccoli everywhere envious. Something about those leafy greens put a spell on our children. It was all we could do to tear the six cousins out of the garden and convince them to jump in the bay. The beach? Maybe later; hey, who wants more salad?
The snap peas are sweet and crisp, a favorite along with the cucumbers. But surprisingly, these kids can’t keep their picking fingers off the fennel (they call it licorice, and save it for “salad dessert.”) They also chomp with glee through the spinach and chard. Ok, so for those keeping score, it’s North Carolina for earth-friendly, grass-fed protein, and New York for getting kids and their vegetables together in harmony.
Cousin Emily adored the mint leaves. And I think Evan owes his Spider Man powers to the hundreds of blades of lemon grass he chewed.
My mother remains modest about her remarkable gardening success. She suggests only that we place lo-jacks on the children to allow us to pull them to safety when it’s time to give them their ice cream.
You do remember ice cream, don’t you kids?