The Small...But Mighty...Harvest.

 My parents grew up during the Great Depression. They knew something about taking care of themselves, and what I mean by that is growing their own food. Thankfully, I've never had to depend on the sweat of my brow--literally--to eat. I'm one of the generations that has not had to produce their own food. I doubt there's ever been another time in the history of the planet where a majority of humans did NOT have to grow their own food to survive.

I'm no historian, but I think that's right.

Still, even though we don't need to do it, there's something about putting that small plant or seed into the ground, giving it light, heat, and water, and watching edible fruits and vegetables grow. It's like a miracle. 

If you've read my post for very long, you know I'm not a "yard work" person. I'm thinking this might be changing--time will tell, but I can say that ever since my son and daughter-in-law surprised us with a garden while we were out of town, each time I look out the window at the simple humble garden, I smile.

A few days ago, the first harvest--an undersized tomato--was brought in. This morning I snapped a picture of a few peppers, complete with ant. I know they're small, but even the grandest garden began small. It's a place we all start. I'm sure we'll have more to come from the plants, and even though the first harvest barely registers, we know that won't always be the case.