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Two days ago I harvested this tray of tomatoes and peppers from my garden. I was surprised by how many I found. These plants grow well in the hot summer days of Utah. Lots of Cherry Tomatoes, red and purple. Some Romas. A few Banana Peppers. A few Dragon Cayenne Peppers. It’s a fall harvest, likely the last of the harvests that produce a full tray. I’ll use them mostly for salads and a few toasted tomato sandwiches. With friends.
I’m not entirely sure why I’m posting this picture. I feel happy about it. I grew these. Not with a lot of attention. I did have to pull back a few weeds and snip through a few vines to get to the fruit. But I did grow them with a lot of anticipation. For the fruit, yes. That’s obvious. But I think I also grew these for the feeling of growing something. For the feeling that I would have of my hands in the dirt. For the smell of the tomato plant itself.
I need, and perhaps many of us do, a connection to things that are alive. To growing things. That sounds a bit dramatic. But it’s true. Particularly from the story that says, “we are nature.” We too, live in cycles. We too, depend on the sun, on rain, on nourishment. We too, inhabit a much broader circle of life. There is a grace in that awareness, isn’t there. It is comforting to me. Satisfying.
Tomatoes are a big part of the harvest, clearly. But maybe, we too, are the harvest. Merely because we have tended and anticipated, because we have let ourselves be part of something alive.
