D.I.Y.

When I first started this blog, part of what I talked about was sharing food with others, both in the preparation and enjoyment of eating together, but I also talked about a long held desire to share in the growing, raising and gathering of the same. Years back I had a garden on the property I still own, but soon after planting it, I became very sick with Bronchitis and a sinus infection, then immediately after that, left for a mission trip to the Navaho nation out in the four corners region of Arizona. When I returned, the garden was too far gone to recover. A garden shed replaced it's space the next year with even bigger plans, but they were never to be. I doubt it ever will now.

Having grown up with a sizable garden as well as greenhouse and studying horticulture in high school, I always had an interest and aptitude for it all. In more recent years, I reached out to others to 'share' in both the cost and effort in once again starting a de-facto co op, a garden, chickens, maybe more so to speak, but my ideas where rejected and I saw it was not really valued beyond my own mind and heart. It was a blow to my spirit.

My brother, who has a rural neighborhood lot, has in the past few years, planted a very nice garden and has generously shared his bounty. I have helped him out when I could and always enjoyed myself. Now being in a much smaller environment, I have taken what I could on a balcony space and grown a few small vegetables as I was able and continue to do so.

This past weekend I had the first chance this year to get down to our family summer home and while on the journey, stopped to see my brother. His garden was thriving in the early summer growth and he asked me to go out to pick some lettuce for the night's meal at the shore. Once again it was a fun and rewarding treat for me to gather for this particular meal that we were planning. He provided carrots from a previous harvest and Bluefish he caught fresh the day before in the Atlantic Ocean. The herbs I brought where ones I had wintered over inside on my windowsill and my Dad had lemons from a tree in his yard in Florida that he carried on his trip north for the season. Only the capers, which we do not have a bush of, were not provided from within the family.

It was a very delicious meal for the three of us, sharing together the things we each had and it just felt right... much like meals of the past when I was able to hunt and brought home meat for my family. There is a certain satisfaction in doing just that. Something that I will never find at a market, no matter how well stocked it it. I miss that, I miss the opportunity to do so. I miss the chances that were not taken and others missed. I miss doing it myself.