Locally Grown

Monday at the farmers market I bought the heaviest head of cabbage I could find- because they were $2.50 a head, so obviously I wanted the biggest bang for my buck. For $5.00 I got cabbage, one yellow neck squash, one zucchini and the strongest onion I've ever smelled. I only realized this when I was sitting at my doctor's office at 5:15 thinking, "someone has the worst BO..." I had to tow all this produce up and down the East side of New York until I finally got home at 7:00pm.

We've been eating cabbage all week. To the stockpot filled with my market finds I added the remainder of the bags of edamame and English peas that were taking up space in the freezer and poured in a can of roasted, diced tomatoes. Then to that garlic, black pepper, salt, cayenne pepper and chili powder. Later, to half of it I added some barley and turkey kielbasa to make more substantial meals for the mister- and lots more cayenne pepper to Chris's too! It's not spicy enough until beads of sweat are popping up on his brow and he's having to blow his nose.

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I love the market this time of year, even though I haven't bought any raspberries, strawberries or plums yet. I know now that I prefer the yellow peach to the white, and nectarines over peaches all together and that I don't want the summer to by though without purchasing a huge Jersey tomato or a pint of those colorful heirlooms.

Just walking through there during my lunch hour- even if it's just to buy a single apple and sample some goat cheese and cantaloupe makes me feel centered again. It's the same thing I experience after bumping into an old friend, or hearing a song that reminds me of high school, or reading a passage in an Anne Lamotte book and thinking, "I've so thought that." It something to do with feeling connected- to earth and God and other people too.

When I got on the 4 train Monday, the entire car smelled of basil. It was such a pleasant surprise and left me feeling clean and relaxed. Two people on the other end of the car each held huge stems of basil, with the roots still in tact. I could see the dirt covered roots through plastic shopping bags they'd wrapped around them and wondered if they were going to replant these entire bushes of basil, or if they were going to sink the plants deep into jars of water just to keep them fresh for several days.

So all this tomato and basil got me thinking and today I got an email from my fellow homesick Texan and after we finish our vat of cabbage I think I'll be making some tomato basil salad with balsamic vinegar and olive oil.. mmm! I do love some room temperature tomatoes though-- and nectarines too. Warm and ripe and as it should be- closest to the source from which it was picked.

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Speaking of wonderful things from the garden Chris and I received a box of canned goodies from my mom's garden: three jars of homemade salsa, two jars of pickles and a jar of jam! It's been a week and I've almost single-handedly consumed a jar of salsa. And those bread and butter pickles remind me of my great-grandmother. Delicious!

I'm so grateful for a mom who'll send me these wonderful things across the country. AND she also sent a box bubbling over with glittery sundresses, work appropriate tops, play clothes and the cutest shoes. Granted, these are things that my mom nor my two sisters wanted--- but still- my style and body shape are much different than theirs so this approach has worked for most of our lives: we shop in each others closest on a regular basis. Normally, their unwanted or bad fitting clothes suit me just fine. These are little things, but make me feel a part, remembered, loved- even though I haven't been home since Thanksgiving. They are woven into the tapestry of who I am- my character. Family and country and growing things and simply pleasures.

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I know it's not that I'll never have garden of my own, or a backyard of my own, or a two bedroom home of my own, or a child of my own... but God's showing me that those are just circumstantial. The more I seek Him the more my will becomes His will. His story is a more important one than what I think mine should be.

There are things I thought I could never do- and I'm doing them. There are things I thought I couldn't live without- and I'm alive. There are things I though that I'd have to control, monitor and be obsessive about throughout my life, or I wouldn't be happy- and I've let them go.

He who lives under the protection of the Most High, dwells in the shadow of the Almighty.

Ps. 91:1