One of the great joys of my parents’ summer was raising a garden behind the house. Due to age and failing health, they have not had a garden for the last couple of years. Up until a couple of years ago, my mom and dad could both be found outside during spring and summer days working in flower beds or in the garden, mowing the lawn, or sitting on the porch, “Listening to the plants grow.”
In the summer rain and run, I believe they have actually been attuned to the sound of growing things. I’m not sure if what I hear are the same sounds they listen for, but the rustle of corn in the wind, the sound of buzzing bees, and the breeze itself carries a different sound in the summer than in the dead of winter when nothing is growing.
They miss their freshly grown produce and I miss the canning and enjoying the fruits of their labor. There is nothing more flavorful than fresh food from the garden. Neighbors have been kind enough to share with them, as they shared with others in the past from their bounty.
I’d love to have a day near someone’s garden when I could be still enough to sit and listen for the sound of plants growing.