Horseradish Plant

This morning I was up in my upper garden, tending to the endless, yet pleasurable work of growing a vegetable garden. If you haven't seen my upper garden yet, here is a fair summation of what you could expect, "Sometimes since I've been in the garden I've looked up through the trees at the sky and I have had a strange feeling of being happy as if something was pushing and drawing in my chest and making me breathe fast. Magic is always pushing and drawing and making things out of nothing. Everything is made out of magic, leaves and trees, flowers and birds, badgers and foxes and squirrels and people. So it must be all around us. In this garden - in all the places.”
― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden    

Yes, sometime I feel my garden is made out of magic, yet instead of badgers, a body will find raccoons, and I've not encountered a fox in my hometown, although we are known for our coyotes, otters, and little brown bears.  I could only wish it were as beautiful as the make believe "secret garden", but I have planter boxes made out of recycled garbage cans and old wood saved from "who knows what project of the past". Old bedframes make for a climbing place for beans and tomatoes, hay bales for keeping up the soil, and most important for sitting and gabbing.

Grandchildren can learn a lot about life when you share a hay bale. There is just something about a gentle breeze brushing up against your skin, as the sun is blinding you, and the crows are loudly chasing off a seagull, while sitting on a hay bale, that will bring perspective to any age of person. Lately I find myself  telling stories to the grandkids about my own life, I often forget that by sharing me, I am sharing history.

I admired my own grandparents so much. Even as an adult, I would sit at my Grandma Esther's feet, she would rub my forehead, and I was five again.  I hope  my own grandchildren will have pleasant memories of Pappy and Grams to share with their own grandchildren.

And so, back to my upper garden in the morning, and horseradish.  I planted horseradish nearly fifteen years ago, tried to kill it many times, but alive it is still.  When I climb the woodruff lined steps to my garden, the first thing that catches my eye is that damned horseradish, taunting me, letting me know that "IT" has won!

So on July 4th, I say, good fight, I admit defeat!