I don’t where this deep interest came from. I did grow up in the countryside part of my childhood though, and I remember a man in our “neighborhood” named Bob who was a farmer, like with cows and tractors and canned preserves and the whole lot. My grandma and I would stop by when his farm was in full production and he’d send us home with boxes of tomatoes, berries, squash, beets and whatever he could convince my grandma to take. His garden was so abundant that he gave away freely and without care. It was beautiful.

My grandma also boasts of a time when raising my dad and uncle when she made everything from scratch. She had goats she’d milk, chickens for fresh eggs, she grew wheat and stone ground her own flour, she grew everything. She was a real hippie in some way. It was ultimately her way of showing her deep love for her kids, she wanted them to have the very best.

During elementary school and part of middle school, before I went to live with my grandma, I remember fresh foods were a rarity. In Oklahoma, I believe you could call our area a food desert, or at least it was 25 years ago. Before we moved, most meals involved a canned vegetable if we ever got them. My sister and I loved canned green beans. We got help from local churches but they were often shelf stable foods, again mostly canned. I remember my sister loved apples when we got them. Something as simple as a fresh apple can be precious when it’s hard to come by.

In high school while living with my grandma, I endeavored to garden on our back deck. We made some garden boxes and I planted corn, carrots, herbs, and tomatoes. It was a constant battle with the squirrels though who kept digging up my starts and replacing them with sunflower seeds. Still, I managed to produce some finger-sized carrots, some resilient tomatoes, and lots of herbs. I was extremely proud.

Following college, I longed for space to grow my own food. I did whatever I could with the little space I had, even if it only meant growing mint on my small balcony or perilla leaves on my window sill.

Something touches me deeply when I see older or more traditional food practices. I am mesmerized every time I see moms making kimchi, I’m moved by people growing their own salad greens, I’m inspired by those who hold primitive knowledge of our foraging days. It’s like it awakens in me an ancient humanity, one where life is as simple as acquiring your next meal, nothing more.