Grown At Home

I planted four pots of baby salad greens in November from starts I bought from a tall elf like man at the Marin Farmers' Market. I didn't think of it as gardening or even growing food. It was an experiment. I mean, food doesn't grow through the winter. There's no sun, too much rain. It's cold.

But I'm often frivolous and the grower looked lonely week after week in his unfolded chair and tables full of six packs of mixed greens, spinach, mizuna, arugula and tat soi displayed in perfect rows.

"They'll be fine," he told me as I packed a flat with nearly one of everything. "They're strong."

They haven't seen my yard, I thought. No cover for protection, the big dog and kids from next door with their noses in everything. The frost. The night animals. They'll never grow.

And I'm an optimist. And often wrong.

The damn things took off. I have done exactly nothing after they were planted. No water, no food, no anything.

Every few weeks I take their picture and stand on the back deck saying, you guys are beautiful. You are so beautiful. And then I eat them.

I've harvested a couple of colanders and added them to market mix, once for friends after I made them taste the different kinds. And the plants keep going.

Even though they have been complete troopers through the winter, the last week of sun has strengthened them up even more. It's as if they are in training for the Olympics. Which means there are more of them for dinner.

I had no idea eating at home could be so easy.