Last night with dinner, we had a bowl of fresh cherry tomatoes from the garden. Also a Walla Walla sweet onion, a Dutch purple onion, and sprigs of dill in marinated beet salad that Kate made with her own red wine vinegar. And this morning, I harvested another meal's worth of broccoli shoots, another picking of snow peas, and two quarts of black raspberries. But it's not just the bounty that makes the difference, it's the harvesting too, as I discovered again this morning, back in the corner of the lot, behind the larch tree, picking the raspberries. The cool air, the little fruit clusters, red, purple, and black, the beaded surfaces of the ripe dark fruit lit by the rising sun, the thorns brushing my shirt sleeves, the slight rustle of leaves, the seclusion.
Carl H. Klaus, My Vegetable Love: A Journal of a Growing Season
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