Then, I got married. Our apartment was in the midst of several businesses, with a parking lot taking up the bulk of everything in the center; our part of the parking lot, included. Our asphalt front yard (aka parking lot) was soon transformed by the addition of seemingly tons of rich black dirt and worms; the fishin' kind. I thought that was interesting because if you had asked me what the makings of a good garden were, I'm sure I woulda' told you Potting Soil. Who knew that a garden could be started in plain ol' ordinary dirt? Hmph! Go figure.
Anyway, I watched as my good hubby-buddy magically changed the lay of the land from ugly black asphalt to beautiful green and luscious plant life; of course, leaving everyone else's parking areas alone. But he wasn't done, yet. Nope! As time marched forward, he tended that beautiful garden and treated it like one might treat a beloved pet. No weed was allowed to linger and people from all those businesses; especially, little old ladies from the beauty shop, often stopped by to admire the yield. Usually, that meant they also went away with bags full of veggies to take home. Remember this, as I was somehow oblivious to what was going on, myself.
Then one day, when it seemed to me that the garden had reached its full capacity, my good hubby-buddy got a wild-hair and suggested that we can summa' the food from the garden. Whoa! I told you that he had a great imagination! I could hardly wait to see how he was gonna' put those lids on the cans.
I waited and watched, but he never even looked at a can. Nope; he decided to use jars, instead; Mason, Kerr... you've prob'ly even seen some. Interesting. I accepted his choice, as he seemed to know what he was doing. When he was finished we had many jars, all lined up on our shelves in a variety of colors and sizes. It made me feel very married and quite stable, actually.
Now, here's where the story takes a decided twist. One day, about two months after the faux canning incident, I was minding my own business and being a happy little housewife. Hubby-Buddy evidently felt the need to be funny and said the most ridiculous thing you can imagine. "Let's eat some of the food we canned."
EAT IT?!? EAT IT?!? What... was he crazy? That stuff was in the DIRT!
Oh, yeah; I hear what you're thinkin'. "Where does Yaya think food comes from?"
Surprisingly, I had even eaten summa' those veggies, but that was different. That was when they were fresh off the vine or stalk or whatever. Once they were in the jars and he suggested eating them, it suddenly occurred to me that all that food had been in the dirt. Dunno' why I didn't think of that, before.
Well, I guess I had jus' never thought of that, before. Strangely enough, all the food I had ever seen, eaten or cooked either came from frozen packages, the produce aisle in the grocery store or cans... not jars. The only exceptions were soda pop and cleaning supplies. Now, here was the man I had sworn to spend my life with... my ENTIRE life... suggesting that I eat food from dirt. What was he thinkin'?!?
You'll be happy to learn that after being educated to the true worth of dirt, and some persuasion from my good hubby-buddy, I did finally try the food we had canned... in jars. It may just surprise you to learn that he was not the only person confused about the difference between cans and jars. Apparently, there are thousands of people in the world who still can't tell the difference.
And I was amazed when I found out that, not only does food grow in dirt... sometimes, with worms, but it can be quite tasty. I don't know if you've ever considered eating food that was grown in dirt, but if you haven't I surely hope you will ignore that inner voice of distaste and try it. I think you'll like it.
Until the next time, keep a hug on.