Growing up as a farm girl in Wisconsin, I spent many summer hours in my father’s garden weeding. At the time, I saw it as a cruel form of abuse to make a child sit in the hot sun all day, weeding seemingly endless rows of vegetables, always hating the feeling of dirt under my nails. I vowed to leave the rural life behind, to go out and explore the big wide world and never return.
Then I grew up, met my husband, and moved to the big city of Chicago. Life was NEW! Everything was exciting and different! But, as time wore on, I realized something was missing. Being outside had always helped to relieve my stresses. But being outside in the city, I felt confined. Everywhere I looked, I saw vehicles, pavement, signage.
I decided to make my Chicago home feel more like the rural one I’d left behind. My husband made me a 3’ X 18’ 
raised flower bed. I spent many hours researching different ways to garden. I spent numerous long phone calls asking my farmer father for advice. Then, I set about preparing and tilling the soil. I planted vegetables, herbs, and flowers. After only a couple of hours that first weekend, I realized what was missing in my city life.
I missed the sounds: birds flitting and chirping about overhead, breezes blowing through the nearby trees.
I missed the smells: my fingers after picking ripe tomatoes, the wonderful aroma of fresh cut grass mixed with that of newly harvested oregano and basil.
The sights: the deep black of the rich earth that I’d toiled over for months, the bright oranges and yellows of the giant marigolds I’d planted to keep rabbits and squirrels away, the beautiful juxtaposition of the bright red of the ripe strawberries against the deep dewy green of their leaves.
And, I really had missed the feelings: of the sun hot on my back as I toiled away to produce food so beautiful and tasty that my children couldn’t help but eat things straight from the garden. The coolness of freshly dug soil on my fingers. The weight in my arms of big bowls of lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, carrots, radishes, and onions…
I’d come full circle and finally understood why my father always had such a big garden. To be able to produce healthy, homegrown food for your children in a gift. For them to be able to stop, mid play, and grab a quick snack straight from the garden is a gift. To be able to feel the pride that comes from watching a garden bloom from work that you did is a gift. Gone are the days of manicures. I’ve come to love the feeling of dirt under my nails!
