A Shared Purpose

Many people are equal parts shocked and dismayed when I talk about having a big garden. I have heard, "I had to weed my parents' garden throughout my entire childhood, and I will never put my kids through that!" Someone else said, "It's so much easier to go out and buy a can of green beans. I don't understand why anyone would go to all that trouble!" Many people mention they are too busy for a garden...or especially for canning vegetables. I walk away wondering if they think I am not busy, but that is another blog post for another day.

The way I see it, women have always tried to provide for their loved ones. To nurture them. When I think about the way we raise our gardens and preserve our vegetables, I think about centuries of women who have shared this purpose. I think about how they had to save seeds from one year to the next to survive, or carry them from civilization to their homesteads in covered wagons, and create a garden from nothing. Create a home from nothing. I consider trying to garden before tractors, plows, tillers, and seed catalogs. I try to imagine canning over a wood burning stove. Those things sound like a lot of work to me.

I mean, some days, whether I pick beans morning, noon, or evening, it is hot. My back often screams for mercy before I am quite finished with a row. But when the picking is done, I come into the air conditioned house, or I sit under a shade tree next to our swimming pool to watch my little people splash and play, to snap the beans. This is the part that takes the longest. It is time that can be spent quietly in front of the TV, or in a group surrounded by chatter. All my kids know how to snap beans. I take the heads and tails off and give them to Megan, and she snaps them, exactly the width of her hand. Perfect green bean size. She says, "I break it, Mommy!" And she is proud of what she can do. Just like I am proud of what I can do. Every time I hear the click that is a jar lid sealing, I smile. I feel like I am doing the best I can for the people I love. I look at these jars on my shelves, and I consider where they came from. I know where they grew, and whether they have been chemically altered(which they haven't). I know whose hands have touched them, and I rest assured that I will never have to recall a certain batch due to some dangerous bacterial outbreak in the factory. Those are some of the reasons I go to all the trouble. I have canned 96 quarts of green beans so far this year, all because the women before me taught me how. Because the women before them taught them how.

Gardening, and preserving what we have grown, is a family affair. The kids can't wait for the beautiful spring day when we begin to plant. They love marveling as the garden grows. They love being the first one to spot a tomato turning red, or the first pepper to sprout from its leafy plant. Every time I load the pressure cooker, I picture my grandma in her farmhouse kitchen, wearing a homemade dress of purple plaid material. Instead of snapping green beans, I can see my grandpa on the couch in his overalls, cutting his with a knife. I think about the people who canned vegetables for me the summers I had new babies. I remember all the time spent as a child helping and learning, and the time I spend now gardening with my family. Sharing the purpose of preservation with the next generation. All things considered, I don't think it is any trouble at all.