Read this article in the New York Times and thought of one my earliest gardening memories:
In late spring, when it's warm enough to walk barefoot, but the earth is still damp and cool, I was standing in the garden with my father.
He reached down and pulled a green onion from the earth. Twisting off the green tops, he demonstrated how to peel off the outermost layer.
"You bite off the end with the roots and spit it out," he said before demonstrating.
Then, standing among the young garden plants and rows of lettuce, peas and onions, he ate the onion.
I, being 5, and a student of my father, gave it a try.
I ate a lot of onions while standing in the garden that spring. As the season progressed, I picked and immediately ate peas and tomatoes and even a few green beans.
For in that simple act, my father taught me the joy of gardening, the joy of harvest and the joy of fresh vegetables.