I think my heart just exploded. In a happy, non-messy kind of way.
Just looking at this picture fills me, no, overwhelms me, with tingles of warmth and excitement. Because this picture is just the beginning of what is to come. Of what is to sow. Of what is to grow!
Three friends, toiling away in the gentle sunshine, on a small plot of earth, overlooking a small piece of heaven.
I mean, do you see that view?
That view shouldn’t be legal.
But forget about the view for a moment and think about the dirt. I get to play in dirt. Mountains of dirt. Planting in it anything that my belly desires.
Imagine the kind of food that we will grow. Dinosaur proportions of chard, kale, asparagus, herbs, onions, and everything else that drips with natural flavors. That I could eat by the pound-full. And exclaim, with my mouth full, I made this myself.
All this bounty of goodness should seriously be punishable by law.
But before you break out the handcuffs, let me back up and explain how we got to this hill, with the sunshine, and the view, and dirt, and our very own garden.
I happened to marry someone with a green thumb. That’s him right up there. Looking all green-thumb-like.
Actually, he comes from a long line of green thumbs. And while I come from a family of emerald digits as well, I wouldn’t say that I am the best with plants. Actually, I’m the worst. I tend to kill them. I water them too much or too little. Or as he would tell you, not at all.
I spray instead of drench. I watch them turn brown, shrivel, and then fall dramatically to my floor. I lack any good plant instincts. It is just too confusing for me. And I’d much rather leave it to my green-thumb-like husband (or buy a succulent) and call it a day.
But when it comes to food, and growing food, it is a different story.
Three years ago, we put our names on the waiting list for a community plot. Unsure if we’d even still be in our neighborhood. But we put our names down and patiently waited, growing herbs in pots on our back steps, my husband dreaming of the day that we would have room for peas and squash, while I slowly murdered our house plants.
And then, we got the phone call.
Joy doesn’t even begin to describe the thrill that came over us. Suddenly, it was real. The garden plot was ours. The possibilities were (depending on the weather patterns) endless. And we were suddenly responsible for more than just indoor ferns and cacti.
And that’s how we got here. That’s how we get to exploding hearts, illegal views, and chicken manure deep under our fingernails.
With some Spring rain by our side, we’ve dug up the weeds, mixed our nutrient rich dirt, and planted our first set of veggies and flowers.
And what does this have to do with eating low sodium food?
Well nothing compares to fresh-from-the-garden ingredients. Apparently, asparagus right from the ground tastes nothing like the kind you buy from a grocery store. And I’m expecting the squash, peppers, chard, and walking stick kale that we’ve planted will be equally unmatchable.
So this is the start to a new chapter of the Sodium Girl adventures. Where we begin to low-sow our own flavor-rich food and take the salt-free experimentations beyond the grocery store aisles.
And since people always say that food cooked with love stands far above the rest, then these future low-sow your own low sodium meals will surely be the tops.
Green thumbs crossed.