As much as I miss being a Harvest Helper at Stoney Lonesome Farm, I am happy to have a little harvest helper right here at my own farm. Each morning, after he has had his 'milky' and 'bar', my grandson always asks if he can "check Marme's garden?" in the cutest little todler voice imaginable. We put on shoes (sometimes right over PJ's), or not, gather the harvest basket, the previous nights scraps for the compost pile, slide my pocket knife to a place of safety and hand-in-hand make our way out to the garden. Frankie his dog is always along.
Cullen loves the garden. He goes around to each bed or row telling me whether the cantaloupes are still growing, or that the beans and squash are ready.
He makes his way to the broccoli, now nothing but a few wayward shoots, to help himself to a morning snack.
He knows the name of each plant and somehow understands when a veggie is ready to be plucked.
He spots the weeds and valiantly tugs often with a "Marme, Cullen can't do it," but has the nozzle of the watering hose mastered (Frankie often gets watered more than the plants producing a big 2 year old belly laugh that I think I could live on for years!).
I love that time with him.
It should really be called "Marme and Cullen's Garden."