The Gifts of Growing Your Own Food
Our clean up in the process…Lucy is not working too hard though.
There’s something about this time of year that stirs up a special kind of excitement. My seed packets are sorted, each one filled with the promise of what’s to come. The gardens are being cleared and cleaned, and the smell of fresh soil is truly glorious. Even though I know I’ll never grow enough to feed my family completely, the gift of growing even a little of our own food is something I wouldn’t trade for anything.
Because here’s the truth—it’s not just about the food.
Yes, harvesting my beloved tomatoes, fresh-cut crisp lettuce, and fragrant herbs is indescribably satisfying. There’s nothing quite like standing in the kitchen, cutting into a cucumber that was on the vine just minutes ago. But the real gift isn’t just in the food itself—it’s in what growing food gives back to us.
When you plant a seed and watch it push through the soil, you’re witnessing a tiny miracle. It’s easy to forget, in the rush of modern life, how much of a gift that is. In a world where we can grab anything off a grocery store shelf at any time of year, growing food reminds us of the very real work that farmers around the world put in—the seasons, the cycles, and the patience that real nourishment requires.
And it’s humbling. Some years, the tomatoes flourish. Other years, they struggle. Sometimes the squash takes over everything, and sometimes I battle pests that I swear have superpowers. But through it all, the garden keeps teaching me—about trust, resilience, and working with nature instead of against it.
Beaufort protecting the girls while they work hard looking for the bugs…
There’s a rhythm to gardening that slows you down in the best way. The feel of warm sun on your back, the sound of bees weaving between blossoms, the smell of damp earth after a rain—it’s a kind of therapy that no store-bought vegetable can replace.
Even when I can’t grow everything we need, what I can grow feels different. It’s richer, fuller—maybe because I know the story behind every leaf, every fruit, every little sprout that fought its way into the world. Maybe it’s because I know that we are all connected within the mysterious web of Mother Nature. The truth is, I don’t need to understand it. I just need to honor it.
I’ll never take food for granted after growing it myself. When you’ve spent months tending a plant—watering it, protecting it, whispering a little encouragement to it (because let’s be honest, I do it, we all do it!)—you appreciate every bite in a way you never did before.
And even when I need to buy food from farmers who do this work on a much bigger scale, I do it with more gratitude. Because I know what it takes. I know the hands that grew it, the patience it required, the unpredictability of weather, pests, and everything in between.
No, I don’t grow everything. And no, I don’t grow enough to last all year. But every handful of herbs, every homegrown pepper, every fresh egg from the coop feels like a small victory. A reminder that food isn’t just about eating—it’s about growing the food and growing ourselves. It’s about tending their well-being and our own. It’s about appreciating the connection and being in the moment.
So as I sit here, dreaming of what’s to come, I know one thing for sure: whatever I can grow, no matter how much or how little, will always be enough. Because the real harvest isn’t just what’s on the plate—it’s everything the growing teaches me along the way.
Many blessings,
Kim
