Generosity

A couple of weeks ago I jokingly claimed that people around here had to keep their car doors locked in the summer to prevent good-intentioned neighbors from leaving bags of zucchini in them. Zucchini are prolific, in case you don’t know.

But a few days later, I found myself foisting off some fresh-picked tomatoes on a visiting neighbor. He wasn’t unhappy about it as he doesn’t have a garden this year, but it gave me pause. This is what gardeners do. What we love to do, i.e., share our bounty. Although our garden area is much reduced this year, I still love to share.

A few years ago, I did a painting of my grandmother who so generously shared her garden bounty, too. You never left her house empty-handed.

The painting depicts her holding an armful of, what? Probably turnips but it could have been tomatoes or peppers or just about anything. The original photo was black and white. The dress was typical summer attire, homemade with no pattern. She just laid out an old dress on the fabric and cut around it. Something I would never be confident enough to try, but grandma worked in an underwear factory during WWII, cutting out fifty layers of long johns at a time. A simple housedress could be whipped up in no time. On her Singer peddle sewing machine. Which I now use as a bedside table. Memories.

Anyway, if someone offers you an armful of fresh garden produce this summer, take it. Even if you don’t like turnips, you’ll be perpetuating the nearly lost act of sharing what we have with fellow human beings. It’s worth reminding ourselves that caring for others reflects well on all of us eventually.