Goodness, Grounded: Day 6 ~ Take and Eat

The Delights of the Field

*This is day 6 of Goodness, Grounded, a series I’m writing every day in November. I am intentionally not sending emails to you every day when I publish, since this is a lot of writing to take in. I do not want to overload your inbox and I want you to be able to read at your own pace. About once a week will send a digest like this one with links to each piece I’ve written. If you would like to tune in day-by-day, you can visit emilysueallen.substack.com and find the most recent posts. If you haven’t already discovered it, there is an audio format available for each entry. Thank you for reading, for listening, and for the responses several of you have sent me. This series represents a significant breakthrough for me, and your encouragement means so much.

If you would like to catch up on the previous entries, follow the links below.

• Waving Hello (An introduction to Goodness, Grounded)

• Goodness, Grounded: Day 1 ~ Say the Quiet Part Out Loud (Asking Good Questions and Telling the Truth)

• Goodness, Grounded: Day 2 ~ The Place You Understand Best (The Struggle Zone)

• Goodness, Grounded: Day 3 ~ Three Words for the Season (Reflections on Life Right Now)

• Goodness, Grounded: Day 4 ~ First Thought in Morning Light (To Pray Without Ceasing)

• Goodness, Grounded: Day 5 ~ Things I’m Trying to Accept (A Synopsis of Five Years)

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I take a packet of seeds and sprinkle them into a shallow, plastic lid. My husband has already prepared soil blocks for me, compressing a damp soil and compost mixture into a handy tool that results in dedicated squares to host individual seeds as they begin their lives. For some reason, I really enjoy the precision of lifting seeds one at a time from that plastic lid with a slightly wet pencil eraser (so it sticks, of course) and dabbing the seed in the center of each soil block. I press lightly to encourage the seed’s descent into the dirt. I fill whole trays and tuck them under the grow lights we have set up in the dining room. I didn’t mean for these grow lights and shelves to become our home decor, but after setting them up along the entirety of the the dining room wall, they have become a year-round fixture whether or not we have seedlings in progress. Perhaps one day I will grow tired of the utility look, but for now, growing is a source of delight and I’m fine with it. For weeks I water and wait. The tender green of new life springs up.

I take my garden tools out to the place where my seedlings will be planted. I rake and ready the spot where they’ll begin an impressive period of growth. My husband has gone before me, doing the harder labor of readying garden plots, leaving the fun part for me. I married that guy for a reason and I know every day it was one of the smartest things I’ve ever done. Nevermind that my eyes were bigger than my stomach, as they say, and the garden space we have to fill is absurdly large. I will do my best, I tell him. I will plant as much as I can manage, seedlings and bare seeds alike. After all, he who sows sparingly will reap sparingly, and that is not the life I want to lead.

I take seedlings from the trays, carefully separating the roots of each from their neighbors. I make appropriately spaced holes and drop them in, carefully covering over with the loose dirt I dislodged when I opened the ground. I plant them myself until little helpers discover what I am up to and beg to be part of the fun. I maintain my post as the seedling separator, since I know my four year old cannot be trusted to do that in a gentle manner, but the little guy can plant like a boss. I love how he is both determined and restrained, caring to do a good job without any damage to the plants. I try not to yelp when he accidentally steps on one with his big garden boots. It’s ok, I say. Just be careful where you put your feet.

I take pruning shears from the drawer in my desk and head down to the greenhouse, which is filled with tomato plants that are now three feet tall. We have to keep up with the suckers or they become a jungle, which I learned from experience last season. Once it goes totally wild, there is no taming a tomato. Best to keep up on it from the beginning, training the vines to grow where you want them. I love the fresh smell of tomato plants at the tender stage. It’s counterintuitive to lop off this leaf and that, but it truly is for the best. I know this is true about me, the pruning God does in my life; the things taken away that do not help me bear much fruit. Now that I am the one who is pruning, I understand a little bit more.

I take gloves to weed the ground around the plants that I put there on purpose. I do pull some with my hands, but more of the time, I use a handy tool that does a fine job of slicing little weeds off at the base. I can cover a lot more ground in the time I have, but it helps to still wear gloves for the grip on the handle. I know if I wait too long to deal with the weeds, it will get out of hand. There is something to be said for the faithfulness needed to keep the weeds from crowding out the good things. I keep my eyes on the prize and I actually find I rather enjoy this step, as long as I’m still in the stretch when the weeds do not become ominous.

I take a walk through the garden gate, letting it close behind me. The rows are in fine form, plants developed and blooms peeking out. The bees and butterflies are all over, and I can see why they’re excited. I check the zucchini plants first because they’re sneaky buggers, and if I don’t give them special attention, I might miss what is ready to pick. I probably have a hundred different things in the garden now, and I like to check on each one. Even the speckled lettuce is exciting because even though I saw it yesterday, there is noticeable growth. A thrill shoots through me when I see the peas are on and the garlic is curling.

I take a tub with me to fill with the currently ready produce. The kids come with, because they love the picking. They reach for everything except the cucumbers, because those are pokey and they hide out deep under the leaves. We have a dozen tomato varieties and a few are ready to pick. They love to pick those. The smooth, rounded shape is perfect for little hands and the best ones are right at their eye level. Down the way, we clip off the scapes and pile them high in their own tub. The first flowers are blooming, and the girls cut bouquets to put on the dining room table. Of course, everyone has to have their own arrangement, so there is a line down the middle of the table with the assorted floral creations.

I take out a cookie sheet, chop the vegetables, and spread them to the edges. Avocado oil and salt is the favorite preparation. We often experiment with different seasonings, but usually end up back at the simple ones.

I take the pan out of the oven when the edges are caramelized the littlest bit and add them to our plates. Roasted vegetables are a taste of heaven, I’m convinced.

My soul and my stomach and my family are filled with the delights of the field, and it is truly good.