As we get older, what seemed mundane and work-like in youth holds different meaning for us. I think of this as maturing. My mother told us to go get radishes out of the garden and a variety of other vegetables such as carrots, peas, beans, etc.
What seemed unimportant and even beneath the ordinary gains fresh meaning. It is not only the vegetables, fruits, and flowers that were fresh. Their meaning becomes fresh. Sometimes, the chores were precursors to something more enjoyable. After shelling peas, we biked to the Peace River and rode down hill at break-neck speed.
Susan Auld’s poem brought up the memories of living at a time where box stores were not just a short ride away in the car. We depended on the produce picked from the garden, fresh eggs from a local farmer, and sometimes fresh poultry raised in a makeshift coop in the backyard. We enjoyed Nature’s abundance and freshness. Today, the memories are fresh as they take on new meaning.
Pull up some radishes for dinner, my mother said.
They grow next to the house under your bedroom window.
Afraid I’d pull up something other than a radish
I enlisted a sister, a brother
and we knelt in the dirt
under the screened window
at what we thought
to be a radish.
Its leaves so new so green
our hands so hesitant so unsure
we reached and pulled—
to our fingers
to the fleshy roots
quivering in the summer sun
we pulled up radish after radish for dinner
handing them, a bouquet, to our mother.
She no longer cares for radishes.
My sister, brother and I tend our own gardens.
But, I wish everyday
to kneel again
under that window
feeling new and green
hesitant and unsure.
A lovely poem. Full of wonder.
It is. Thank you Tony.
Our fifth grade class did something similar to Miss Canalie and Tootsie Rolls!~!!!!
Reblogged this on By the Mighty Mumford and commented:
AND THEY RADISHED EVERY ONE!!!!
Thank you for the re-blog Jonathan.
Despite the poor pun. 🙂
Puns are always fun.
Yeah…sometimes I overdo it. 🙂
A beautiful memory and poem. You are right- those simple things once overlooked become timeless gifts. We were in The Moment, and took us a lot of searching for something else to bring us back to the grace we are all so freely given.
Thank you for a wonderful (wonder filled) comment Michael.
Memories of a time past. Lovely and gentle poem.
pulling carrots out of the ground
washing them with my t-shirt
and nothing will ever taste better
Even with a little dirt still mixed in.
Lovely reminiscence and poem–thank you. Peace….
You are welcome and thank you. Peace back.
Lovely poem. Thank you.
You are welcome Niamh.
I agree with the concept of your poem. That’s correct!!
Memories that a new generation will know nothing about. My aunt would send us in the woods to pick black berries. If we found enough we had pie. But all I remember was the picking.
You used to pick saskatoons. They are similar to blueberries.