The Next Generation

While I garden and raise chickens
for my own eating and living pleasure,
I have something else always in mind as well:
Teaching the children.

I remember the little girl next door
digging her first potatoes,
and marching home singing,
"We will have these for supper
in the morning!"

Or teaching the little city child,
who came back in February
ready to pick strawberries again,
that food grows in its season.

Most recently,
I remember the shock
on the face of the young fellow
who mows the front yard,
when he apologized for not
cleaning up every single leaf.
I told him it was okay,
those leaves would become dirt.

It was obviously the first
he'd heard of it.

This week he mowed
when I wasn't home.
I came home to find
the grass catcher full of grass
leaning against the front door.
He came by later,
proud that he had left the clippings
for the garden.

These clippings went around the grapevine,
just as my grandmother used to put
organic material
around the base of her grapes,
creating rich soil
and sweet, juicy goodness
every summer.