Feast and Give Thanks

It’s a little premature, but when I plant I can’t help but think of the harvest.

Despite the odds (a broken rototiller topping the list), the garden is planted. Late beats never.

Yesterday was a day. It began at 9 a.m. as I left my weed filled, plastic covered wanna-be-garden to help a friend. She is 3 days from her due date and hosted a garden party to tackle her own “wish filled wanna be.” It was the best baby shower I have ever attended. All she requested was a plant and some help. I left 2 hours later, after making my mark in the garden, knowing that despite my own wants, her ever growing family would be fed out of a beautiful garden they undoubtedly deserved.

I returned home with my head consumed by my list. There I found my retired parents, in my garden, under the hot sun, pulling up tarps. It took me over an hour, stumbling to keep up, to really appreciate the magnitude of the gesture.

By 5 pm, we had the entire garden completely prepped. My parents rented a rototiller and ran circles around my efforts. The only two retirees I will probably never keep up with—-through sweat and aches we triumphed.

So we feast, not on the food, not yet, but on the victory….knowing the best is yet to come.