Peeling Carrots
Today I am grateful for my farm upbringing and what it taught me about the natural world and my place in it. The resulting respect for and love of nature have been ongoing gifts.
I am grateful for all of my siblings, as we grew up together on the farm, and a special mention to my sister Zita who is celebrating her birthday today. Happy Birthday Zita!
We were pretty self sufficient on the farm. We had our own eggs and milk, butchered chickens, raised pigs and beef to sell and for meat for our own table. We had a large garden; eating fresh produce, but also canning, freezing, and storing more so we could enjoy it year-round.
Everyone pitched in to do our part. Maybe it was gathering the eggs, or picking the ripe strawberries, or carrying milk to the milk house. Or we were in the house helping with some aspect of the meal preparation. It seemed we were always preparing a meal or cleaning up after one. Especially Mom, but she had plenty of helpers.
The other morning I was peeling a few carrots so I could take them to work as part of my lunch. It started a thought process. Peeling carrots is a task I have done hundreds of times. As a child, I looked forward to being old enough to be trusted with the job. Working the knife and the peeler with increasing dexterity and quickness was a sign of growing up, of being a contributor.
We all learned from a pro. Mom was quick and efficient with such tasks and she taught us like she had been taught herself. I marveled at her speed and ability to waste as little as possible. I still strive for the same. Today her hands are gnarled and slowed with arthritis, but over the years they happily created thousands of meals for our many mouths. At least it seems to me that this made Mom happy, that she was in her element.
We shucked peas, plucked chicken feathers, peeled potatoes and apples, snapped the ends off of green beans, cracked eggs, gathered berries one by one, and so much more. It was farm-to-table before farm-to-table was a common term. I did some of those chores begrudgingly, but I recall a sense of pride more, a sense of the food tasting fresh and nourishing and that I had had a part in making that possible.
How many of us today get this experience? How many children learn first-hand where the food on their table came from and helped prepare it? It is a valuable lesson and so important that we keep reinforcing our connections with nature, instead of widening the gap.
I am grateful for all of my siblings, as we grew up together on the farm, and a special mention to my sister Zita who is celebrating her birthday today. Happy Birthday Zita!
We were pretty self sufficient on the farm. We had our own eggs and milk, butchered chickens, raised pigs and beef to sell and for meat for our own table. We had a large garden; eating fresh produce, but also canning, freezing, and storing more so we could enjoy it year-round.
Everyone pitched in to do our part. Maybe it was gathering the eggs, or picking the ripe strawberries, or carrying milk to the milk house. Or we were in the house helping with some aspect of the meal preparation. It seemed we were always preparing a meal or cleaning up after one. Especially Mom, but she had plenty of helpers.
The other morning I was peeling a few carrots so I could take them to work as part of my lunch. It started a thought process. Peeling carrots is a task I have done hundreds of times. As a child, I looked forward to being old enough to be trusted with the job. Working the knife and the peeler with increasing dexterity and quickness was a sign of growing up, of being a contributor.
We all learned from a pro. Mom was quick and efficient with such tasks and she taught us like she had been taught herself. I marveled at her speed and ability to waste as little as possible. I still strive for the same. Today her hands are gnarled and slowed with arthritis, but over the years they happily created thousands of meals for our many mouths. At least it seems to me that this made Mom happy, that she was in her element.
We shucked peas, plucked chicken feathers, peeled potatoes and apples, snapped the ends off of green beans, cracked eggs, gathered berries one by one, and so much more. It was farm-to-table before farm-to-table was a common term. I did some of those chores begrudgingly, but I recall a sense of pride more, a sense of the food tasting fresh and nourishing and that I had had a part in making that possible.
How many of us today get this experience? How many children learn first-hand where the food on their table came from and helped prepare it? It is a valuable lesson and so important that we keep reinforcing our connections with nature, instead of widening the gap.
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