I’m celebrating International Kitchen Garden Day, August 24, by picking beans in my garden and then eating them. The celebration would be even more festive if I had a ripe tomato but up here in the higher elevations there is no such thing. Yet.
It is a sad comment on our times that there has to be an organization to encourage people to plant a little kitchen garden so they can enjoy many days of harvesting food, grown with their own labor and the blessings of sun and rain, and then entertaining their friends over a delicious meal.
Kitchen Garden Day was invented by the people at Kitchen Gardeners International who are connecting people who grow some of their own food all around the world. I know I have always felt connected to the people who have farmed and gardened through the ages, my Swedish and Italian forbears among them, but in spite of having those Swedish and Italian forbears it never occurred to me to identify myself with all those Swedes and Italians currently taking shovel and seeds out to the garden. And on a hot day like today I should certainly be able to imagine myself out under the Puglian sun.
Fortunately, the new technologies are helping us all to connect with like minded folk everywhere. Maybe they will even connect us with a presidential food garden. Wouldn’t that be something!
In the meantime, there are few delights to compare with picking succulent lettuces for my salads, unbruised raspberries, crisp haricot verts, fragrant dill, juicy tomatoes of every hue (eventually), petite courgettes and lovely blueberries. This is my daily kitchen garden celebration.
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I agree– when I lived in the city I grew tomatoes, herbs, beans, and peppers with very little room. I still love looking at my pictures from those days, even though I now have 10 acres. I wish more people would try to grow vegetables. It also helps kids understand the connection between our food, the soil, nature etc.
We never managed to grow vegetables when we lived in the city. I envy you those memories. We did have a tiny shady backyard where we loved to sit, the symphony of the city well muted.