Sweet Potato Day
Last Sunday was Sweet Potato Day at our house. Now, I am not a sweet potato kind of guy. Not nearly as much as my wife; she loves them. I do eat them, but I enjoy growing them much more than I do having them in front of me at the dinner table.
In fact, I enjoy growing all my food simply for my family and friend’s sake. Not only does the fresh produce bring smiles to their faces, they also bring a healthy bounty to their lifestyle.
But, back to Sweet Potato Day. For the past few years, now, I had planted the quick growing vegetable in the early spring, guarded them from the rascally rabbits waiting to hop upon them with their bunny noses and devouring teeth, and waited patiently for the fall to come.
When the time comes to dig up the potatoes, I take three valuable items with me. First, a wheelbarrow to place the bounty in; second, a pitchfork, to carefully dig up the treasure. And most importantly, I take children with me. Now, I could dig up those potatoes by myself easier, quicker, and more efficiently myself.
Yet, gardening is not just time for adults, it is also about time for children. My love for gardening comes, I believe, from watching my grandfather work in his garden. He had a lovely one in Michigan, all those years ago.
My earliest memories of my grandfather see him dressed in his dirty overalls, large brimmed hat on, and a pair of worn leather garden gloves on, his aged frame bent over deep in his many fruit or flower beds. It wasn’t until much later that I came to understand that my grandfather was more than a gardener; he was a former principal and superintendent of school systems in the northern part of my home state. To me, though, he was a gardener first and foremost, and as a child, I admired how pretty his yard always was.
I try to pass this knowledge along to the children who live in my home, whether they be my own or the many foster children that pass through our house. There are many life lessons to be taught while outside in nature’s playground. The art of patience, as a watermelon seed is planted, watered, and cared for. Compassion for a wounded hummingbird, who flew into a window. Wonder, as a baby duck first learns how to paddle in the creek. Work habits, as one weeds around a tomato plant or amends the soil in order to plant zinnias for mommy. Life and then death with fireflies, as they are caught in the night, placed in a jar, and found dead the next morning.
This past Sunday, though, my children learned that hard work pays off. After my son helped to dig up the potatoes and haul off the vines to the compost pile, my middle daughter scrubbed and cleaned the bounty, while the youngest daughter placed them in the sun to dry. Finally, my oldest daughter helped to prepare them to be cooked. Everyone pitched in to help in their own way, while all enjoyed the “fruits of their labor.”
It is my hope that my children take these lessons with them to their own homes as they grow into adults.