by Lora Stevens

Created on: August 20, 2009   Last Updated: October 23, 2009

When I was younger, I always thought my hands were going to have permanent green stains on them from the enormous amount of weeding we had to do in our vegetable garden. During the summer and early fall, we would dread our mother coming home for fear that we would get the horrendous call to go weeding at the garden.

The garden was located at a purchased plot next to the river, allowing our plants to grow in wonderfully fertile, black soil. When it was time to go to the garden, mother would ask us to load up the station wagon with gardening tools, gloves, and plenty of bug repellent.

By the time I was finally dragged to the garden with one or more of my siblings, I always found it wasn't so bad. Besides the numerous mosquitoes nagging at my skin, the work wasn't as horrible as I had imagined beforehand. We would hack away at the overgrown weeds and then would enjoy garden adventures while mother spent time picking vegetables and tidying up the garden.

My younger sister and I would go on grand adventures in the garden! We would see how far we could walk along the ropes and stakes that divided the garden plots. We would admire the gardens of others with their blooming flowers, bright vegetables, and delicious-looking melons.

Our favorite adventure was to venture into the thick of trees just off the river. We would find twigs and tree branches, wild rhubarb, and anything else we could use to create a new home for ourselves in what seemed like a grand forest. Sometimes we would even create our own little garden with sticks and seed packages that had blown in the wind. We would play for what seemed like hours.

Off in the distance we would hear mother calling. It was time to go home. A trip that we loathed to embark ended in a sweaty, dirty, bliss. We would help mother load the station wagon with all of the gardening tools and freshly picked vegetables from the garden.

On the way home, we would sit in the back of the car, windows rolled down and the wind blowing on our smiling faces. We ate freshly picked snap peas and would dream of what adventures would come tomorrow when we would venture to the garden for work and mostly play.

The memories that still bring a smile to my face remind me of the invaluable lessons of hard work I learned from planting and harvesting our own food. These lessons cannot be found many places in life. What better place to plant seeds of hard work, family unity, and sense of adventure than my very own garden. Harvested are the characteristics that cannot be instilled in any other way. The garden surely is a place for growing and reaping a bountiful harvest!

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