The carrots I am munching on are delish. Probably the vitamin punch is packed too, since they are organic, and were in the ground until half an hour ago. But they would not make the cut for a grocery store. They are either too small, or crooked. One actually grew entwined with a parsnip, which seemed very romantic. But no store would have offered it. In case you are not aware a carrot seed is so small it is almost impossible to pick up just one, which makes it hard to spread them out with enough elbow room. So they get crowded, and argue under the dirt. I have no idea how commercial farmers get such perfectly shaped carrots. Maybe they use tweezers. 

The tomato harvest has not waned. Each day I fill a basket, placing them gently so as not to bruise them. There have been times I sprung for "vine ripened" tomatoes at the store in the past, having scanty understanding of what that means. Transporting fully ripe tomatoes from the garden to my house is tricky, and a few inevitably get smashed. How in the world could workers who are paid minimum wage pick them, pack them, truck them, deliver them, display them, and sell them without making a red blotchy mess?

Then there is the corn. I admit to having balked at paying fifty cents a piece for them in the past. No more. My gardening partners and I have tilled the soil, planted seeds methodically four inches apart, raked a mound of dirt over each one, watered them, mulched them, weeded them, loved them, and finally picked them only to find that a quarter of the ears have been lunch for bugs.  Then I triumphantly bring them home to my kids.

"Who wants fresh corn?" I ask in anticipation. 

"I dunno. I would rather have macaroni." So I eat all four ears.

Today I brought home my first pumpkin. It is not completely orange, though it is gorgeous. But the stem snapped so I will let it finish ripening where I can admire it, if that even works.  I shake my head to think of the rock bottom price I have paid for pumpkins in past Octobers. Five bucks? For a vegetable that took four months of rain and sunshine to come into its own? 

A ripened marriage does not come cheaply. John and I spent part of an afternoon with one last week, and their skill at listening took years to refine. He spoke from his own experience, avoiding any whiff of judgment, or advice giving. She listened with her eyes, in fact her whole body. Our four chairs were close, so the shy feelings would come out of hiding.  I spoke of my pain, and the confusion of putting my son in the hospital, and they were fully present. I left much of the hurt in that room, which I hope has dissipated and caused them no anguish. 

I think I will take them some carrots.