It usually takes giving a tour to someone unfamiliar with the gardens for me to view the place with new eyes. Like a beloved, sometimes you just can’t get enough distance to really see what’s going on. I had a visitor this weekend and, despite the constant attention I have recently given the outdoor gardens when putting them “to bed,” my friend said quite clearly:
“There’s still a lot of stuff growing out here, isn’t there?”
Indeed! So I have made many furtive trips to the gardens, harvesting what I can. The resultant food I call my “As God is my Witness”*meals: there’s much still to harvest in the leavings, in the gleanings, in the tail-ends of what’s still in the ground. And this is a good thing. Much can be learned from making a meal out of these not-pretty cast-offs. And it makes me feel…rich. Wealthy beyond reason, and certainly beyond sense.
I’ll never be hungry again.
*Scarlett O’Hara, upon finding, then throwing up, the only vegetable in her Yankee-raided garden: “As God is my witness, as God is my witness they’re not going to lick me. I’m going to live through this and when it’s all over, I’ll never be hungry again. No, nor any of my folk. If I have to lie, steal, cheat or kill. As God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again.”