A mother-daughter team present me with a hand basket half full of seed packets. (Even if you want to see it as half empty, that is one heck of a lot of seeds!) The mom explains that she allowed her daughter (5 years old, I’d guess) to pick and chose freely. “She likes to see things sprout”, she explains.
I find myself envious of this child. My inner child finds these little packets enticing every time I restock the shelves or locate something specific for a customer. Renee’s Gardens, Horizon Herbs, Turtle Tree, and of course, Peaceful Valley’s own…the graphic promises, the creatively chosen names, the crop I would love to grow but know I’d be the only one to consume in my picky family.
Dang! What a fortunate child! I hope someday she thanks her mother for her indulgence. Maybe when she is a mother herself, she will realize how abundantly “over the top” her youthful garden was.
Before my father passed over ten years ago, I made him cry by just such a personal realization and a Father’s Day card. My seeds came in little baby food jars and were the generic farmer’s fair – simple seeds that sprout without much care or fanfare. But I wrote a card to tell him that “gift” had outlived any bicycle, stereo, college tuition or dress he had every bought me. I’m glad I realized early enough that I too was a fortunate child.