I remember at age 9, when I was busy supplying the town with lemonade from my stand, that for my May birthday, my parents gave me a few packets of seeds to plant anywhere I wanted. I dug up a piece of lawn by the back door, tossed out anything that didn’t look like dirt, and planted nasturtiums and marigolds, and other stuff. It all came up.  I was hooked. I paid no attention to soil pH, cation exchange rates, boron sufficiency, or any of that. I planted nasturtiums and they grew beautifully.

            I was proud, and they were proud (which made it all the better.)

            Whenever I start to sweat the small stuff now, I recall that summer. 

Peter at Swan River Farm, Cape Cod