by Deborah Michelle Jordan

Created on: August 23, 2008   Last Updated: September 21, 2008

My husband and I moved to the country last year, in an effort to escape the noise, the pollution, the people and the traffic. I grew up in a small town - the kind where everyone knows everyone else. As a teenager, I thought it was sickening. Now as an adult, I find it really nice. We couldn't be happier out here where we can see the stars and the only noise at night is the crickets and hee-hawing of the donkey down the road.

One of our goals and something we really looked forward to, was planting a small vegetable garden. I have beautiful memories of working with my great-grandmother in her garden. She and my great-grandfather grew all of their own food and they made it look easy. At least to an eleven year old. Oh sure, I knew they worked hard. They were in their 70's and they worked from sunup until sundown. They were so even-tempered and happy - I guess I'd always assumed that this simple kind of living was less complicated. My grandmother knew everything there was to know about living on a farm and she always smelled great - like outside. The best days of my life were spent shelling peas under a shade-tree, while drinking mustang grape juice and listening to my grandparents talk about the weather.

So, we set out to plant our garden this past June. We began, feeling confident and excited - fueled by visions of the colorful bounty we would reap in the coming months. We bought seeds for green beans, beets, onions, cucumbers and cantaloupe. We thought it would be wise to start small, reasoning we would plant more things in the fall. We figured that by next Spring, we would be ready to plant a good-sized vegetable garden.

We planted all of the seeds in large pots, except the cantaloupe and beets - the cantaloupe and beets were planted in rows. We watered the seeds and watched. By this, I don't mean we watered and then walked away and then came back another time to see if anything was happening. No. I mean we watered and then we watched. The whole family watched. I cannot convey the excitement and exhilaration we felt when the first seedling burst through the earth. It was a feeling of immense pride and wonderment. It was a miracle. The miracle of life. From the moment that first bean sprouted from the ground, we knew that gardening was on destiny. Living simply and eating fresh food from the earth was going to transform our lives. We were going to spend less money and be healthier. We couldn't have been more pleased and committed to our new way of life. In fact,

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