Basil

I came here today to write about having too many tomatoes, but I looked back a year and alas! I’ve already written that post. I suppose the feeling of overabundance is somewhat seasonal. For what it’s worth, I do have too many tomatoes and not enough time or storage space. But I suppose I’ll have to write about basil instead.

Right now we have a lot of fresh basil still hanging on despite nighttime temperatures dropping. And if you know me personally, you know that a fresh mozzarella, tomato, and basil salad is one of my favorite meals. Not just mine either, apparently. I woke up this morning to a cutting board with some extra basil leaves on it. I was puzzled for a moment until I realized my eldest made her lunch late last night, after I was already asleep. Which means she ventured out sometime after eleven o’clock to get some fresh basil for her Friday lunch.

Something about that made me smile, even at six a.m. I love the idea that my kids feel both ownership and accessibility to the plants we grow. Every time we walk to our car, one or another kid is grabbing a handful of mint or sage to eat on the car ride. When cucumbers are in season, they’ll often grab one out of the garden on the way home from the bus. And my kids, my husband, and even my dog are notorious for eating the kale that grows on our property like a weed.

If that sounds idyllic, please understand: the presence of the garden doesn’t really change much about their general behavior. We still fight about screen time and chores and homework. They still bicker about sharing a room and who left a puddle of water on the bathroom floor after their shower. And for the rainy season, our yard may as well not exist to my kids.

We don’t have a garden out of some grand desire to give our kids a cultivated childhood. We have a garden for the exact opposite reason. Forrest hated mowing the useless front yard and I was looking for something (anything) that I could do to get a break from parenting while still being present enough to be technically home. It was almost a bonus that the kids didn’t really enjoy it and didn’t spend much time out there. If that sounds unfeeling and unkind, well, I encourage you to spend five days a week alone with three kids under five. A quiet refuge can be worth more than gold.

I’m realizing I’m supposed to be talking about basil here. My point is, I’m only now realizing that I view it as a privilege to have access to garden-fresh produce in my front yard. But to my kids, that’s just life. “It’s time to make lunch, and oh yeah, there’s basil outside, let me go grab some.” Every once in a while, I wonder if I should make them aware of their good fortune.

Then I decide not to.

I want them to grow up thinking this is normal. Thinking that fresh basil and too many tomatoes and kale everywhere is just what life looks like. So much of our world seems to revolve around the idea that there isn’t enough, so we’ve got to put ourselves first, and screw everyone else. Maybe, just maybe, this overabundance will show them the truth. That if we plant the seeds and tend our gardens, there will always be enough. More than enough.