It is absolutely astonishing what can come out of a 14’ x 16’ plot of city soil. It is early November and I am still enjoying the miracle of food from my garden. Just yesterday I made soup mostly from what was picked the garden: mixed greens, potatoes, carrots, shallots and celery. I browned a small piece of sausage and garlic for flavor, threw in some spices and voilà – a healthy, nourishing, low-cal, low-fat, tasty, dinner. Roasted beets and potatoes, salad of mixed lettuces, nasturtiums and arugula, sautéed rainbow chard, and tea made from borage, mint and basil make up many fall dinners in our home.
I’ve also had some memorable moments with kindred souls in that city garden. On Sunday, a mother and daughter walked by and admired the garden. I invited them in and they were so excited and grateful to be in the garden. I offered them some food. Soon they were pulling carrots and picking greens and teaching me about a plant they use that I thought was weed. They were immediately at Home in the garden. Davicka, the 16 year old daughter, told me that they were Bhutanese refugees that had been relocated by the U.N. this summer to Scranton. After expulsion from Bhutan, they had lived in refugee camps in Nepal for 17 years. (Many still do.) The mother spoke no English but we all shared a meaningful dialogue – a moment of mutual appreciation of what comes from the dirt when you add seed, sun and water – survival, sustenance, food and sometimes moments of celebration.

Another kindred soul, Harry, flies, and I mean flies sometimes on two wheels around the neighborhood in his jazzy chair, shouting a friendly hello to everyone he sees. He brings me a soda and shows me photos of his grandchildren every time he sees me. Early this spring Harry asked me for my mailing address for his Christmas card list. Because he seemed one of the kindest beings I had met, I reluctantly gave it too him hoping he wasn’t a psycho. Later in one of his visits to the garden, he spoke more of his family. His son and family lives nearby and his wife died a few years back. Tragically, Harry lost two of his three children in a drowning accident when they were quite young. Some people are broken after a loss like that, not Harry. I saw Harry in CVS last week; I overheard him ordering 150 photo Christmas cards. The photo-tech girl was laughing, really enjoying her moment with Harry. Yesterday my photo card arrived in the mail. What a moment.




