MY MORNING GARDEN

When I was a child we lived in a great old house on Liberty Street, in Fredonia, NY, with my Grandmother Gennuso, my mother's mother. When I was really young, my Aunt Minnie, my mother's older sister, also lived with us, as her husband had died of TB. My father, at that time, was in the navy, and away 'at war'. We were three girl children, as my youngest sibling, my brother Butch, had not yet been born. Jackie, my eldest sister and Barbara, my youngest sister and I helped make up this world of women in which we lived for several years.

I must say that high among my fondest memories is my grandmother's garden. It was extensive, and stretched, or seemed to, far behind our house. It was a garden laden with tomatoes, basil, onions, garlic, leafy vegetables, broccoli, and much, much more. Grandma spent much time in the garden. I can still see her slightly portly figure, in a faded, flowered, cotton house dress, her white, white hair tied neatly in a bun at the nape of her neck, bent over the green rows, hoeing or weeding by hand. My grandma loved her garden! It was apparent in the tender way in which she toiled, in the reverent way in which she gathered its harvest, and in the deeply respectful way in which she used its produce. We wasted nothing, what was not prepared for immediate consumption was lovingly 'put up' in her working basement. Not only did she have a wood cook stove in the kitchen at that time, but she also had one in the basement so that all the women could keep cooler while canning.

I loved trailing behind my grandma in the garden...I am sure it is her influence and example that has led to my deep love for the outdoors.

Approaching my garden in the morning, I feel as though I am entering a cathedral...

...this small arched opening which leads to my garden seems like a portal of some holy kind...

This morning I felt my grandmother presence more strongly than on some mornings, though she is there always. The light, the lush, verdant greens, the ampleness of it all speaks to its givingness, its readiness to break through to the 'other' side.

My broccoli has been pushing to make it to the table, and as I can just barely see the burst of soon to be flowers, I harvest two heads this morning, which will be on our table tonight.

The basil is looking beautiful, and I can't resist the temptation to snip a leaf and rub it behind my ears and on my wrists. Soon we will have fresh pesto, too.

The tomatoes are honestly looking the best that I can remember in years...huge, healthy looking stalks with plenty of yellow flowers. We have eaten two small tomatoes from one plant, and it is about to yield two more. Those will sit on a dish, sliced with a fresh onion and basil, with a dirzzle of olive oil and wine vinegar, perhaps tonight as well.

And one of my very favorite garden gifts is the cucumber. I have two that are very near to harvest, and I hope I can wait another two to three days to let them get to their prime.

This is the first year I can remember, this late in the summer, that the potatoes do not (as yet) have potato beetles munching away. I generally walk through the rows with two flat stones in hand, and although it is a very difficult thing for me to do, I place the potato bug that is only doing what it is meant to do, on one of my Killing Stones and squash it with the other. This is a part of tending my garden I do not relish. I wish there were some way the potato beetles and I could both share this crop.

The rows of dill have finally gotten some growth. I love to snip a piece off and chew on it as I am working.

Yes, I love my garden and I am so grateful to my grandmother who so loved her garden as well.