Our tomatoes are coming on strong this month and I have made batch after batch of salsa. This means I am eating far too many Frito-Lay products and that cilantro is coursing through my veins. Mmmm...lycopene.
I love the harvest. Peach and pear picking in the orchard. Rows of pumpkins at the farm around the corner. Just a few months ago, we were digging in the dirt. And now, the kids are picking squash and cucumbers in our little backyard patch.
It feels like harvest-time in the Mommy Garden, too. Let's face it, the first 10 years of my mothering career have been challenging on many levels. A lot of dirty work. A lot of growth, but most of it underground. I've wondered if I'd ever see the fruits of my labors.
Suddenly, my children are blooming. They can put on their own shoes, play the piano, load the dishwasher. My life is no longer dictated by naptimes or body fluids. Everyone's pleasantly positioned between Desitin and Clearasil.
With colic a distant memory and puberty--hopefully--a few miles down the road, I can sit lazily in the backyard, enjoy the temporary harvest, and gather strength for the big digs soon to come.