It was not too long ago that our community garden group was sitting around a dining room with packets of seeds spread out dreaming of what we’d do with all the bounty. Soon after that we worked the soil into rows at a Sunday afternoon work party and buried those seeds in shallow trenches. At that moment as a gardener, you put trust in the future – a belief in the rain and the sun and the weather.
A belief that with a little care that these tiny pods can, and will, grow into something, and not just anything, but something that can actually be eaten. It is the most basic of processes in this world of high technology. An area — at least in my garden — where what I am doing is not too much different from what my parents did or their parents did. It’s simple and almost magical all at the same time and it’s hard to match the excitement of seeing those first seeds break through the soil. A kind of validation in my beliefs. A validation of my optimism for another growing season. 
