I spent from 9 am until 4 pm inside a conference room, meeting with colleagues and making plans for the next academic year. My day was productive and the work I did necessary, but as I drove home, I felt like I’d missed the whole day because I’d spent it inside. The weather was sunny and cool, and it would have been perfect for gardening.
Then I remembered that it was Tuesday.
Just a few miles from my house, I turned into a gravel driveway, and drove up past a bunch of silos, then down a hill and around the side of a barn. Another woman was already there, lifting a bin of vegetables into her car. “Do you need anything extra?” Mrs. Farmer asked as I approached.
“Tomatoes,” I said. “I used them all up within three days last week.” I didn’t mention to her that I’d eaten them all myself: no one else in my family got any at all.
My two boxes were already filled with vegetables, but she lifted the lid to add a few more tomatoes. “Which greens do you want?” she asked. “Pick two bunches.” I chose the swiss chard with its bright red/purple lines and the kale with its curly green ruffles. Greens pretty much taste alike to me so I just pick the prettiest ones.
We chatted for a few minutes. It was her birthday: she’s four years older than me. We went to the same high school, just up the road. “This is the first week for beets,” she said. “We’re having some for dinner tonight.”
The two boxes of veggies fit nicely onto the back seat. The car filled with the scent of fresh basil. I waved goodbye and pulled out of the driveway, looking forward to the salad I’d be eating in just a few minutes.
