Neither my mother nor my father were gardeners.  My grandmother was. During the depression, she fed "train hoppers".  Families who were leaving the East heading West.  They would jump off at my grandparent's farm because the word had been passed along among the "hoppers" that you could get a meal at Gran Wilson's house.

Every summer Gran put up hundreds of every possible fruit and vegetable in jars and stored them in the cellar, so that there would be plenty to eat for anyone that came to that way.  In Oklahoma, everyone had a storm cellar filled with the produce of their gardens.  When a storm came, we would all go down into the cellar and try not to jiggle any of the jars.  Which was hard sometimes because the cellar would be packed with people.  Memories like that are filled with a kind of yearning for what you remember as being so happy.  Even in the middle of a tornado.

Well, I have always wanted to grow things.  But in the Marine Corp you were always moving and if you planted anything, you probably wouldn't be there when it was ready to harvest.  So, I planted pecan trees. I figured pecan trees would always be appreciated.  I hope someone is enjoying my pecans.

All that to say this:  Nine years ago, I finally planted a garden.  I had no idea what I was doing, but I guess God took pity on me because I have more asparagus than we can eat.  I now know what motivated my grandmother to plant more than they could possibly eat.  It is so much fun to give it away.  I have squash, tomatoes, kale, parsley, lettuce, peppers, and okra.  In Oklahoma everyone eats fried okra.

John 15: 5, "I am the vine, you are the branches.  He that abides in me, and I in him, the same brings forth much fruit:  For without me you can do nothing."  That's the truth.  It's by the grace of God that anything grows in my yard.  It's all clay.  I don't think that's the kind of fruit John was talking about, but it works for me.