My Farmer

My husband loves to garden. He would love to move out to the country, have a huge garden and maybe some chickens, and perhaps a cow. But we are planted in the city, so to speak, and he manages to grow a nice variety of vegetables. Every February, he pores over seed catalogs and dreams of his next garden. He plants his seeds indoors while there is still snow on the ground, and when he comes home from work each night, he checks on his seedlings, adjusting the temperature of the room, the lighting and air flow. His workshop in the basement is transformed into a greenhouse of sorts for the last few cold months of the season. When it gets warm enough, he tills the soil and brings his seedlings outside to his cold frame, or plants the hardier early plants.  The kids look forward to this every year; the garden goes from being full of potential:

to being full of life!

 I find things like this on my kitchen counter:

And I find little people in the garden harvesting something for dinner or a snack:

Just as important as the wonderful food the garden produces, is the process. The children see their father working and sweating over the soil and plants, and coaxing the plants to produce their fruit. For us, and many others, my husband goes off to work each day in an office to provide a home and food, and that's largely an intangible idea for most kids. I do talk to them about how daddy has to go to work each day so we can have plenty of food to eat and clothes to wear and a home to live in. But the garden serves as a picture of daddy working and providing; something they can see and even help with. They become part of something bigger than just themselves; they are helping to put food on the table for themselves and others to enjoy!