I could not have been more wrong in that respect. For every green bean that I ate last year I spent a hundred dollars in tools and mulch. Don’t get me started on how many hours of effort that little green bean took. So, why am I so excited to do this again?
My family is Norwegian. I make jokes to friends that the hot, humid summers in Cincinnati aren’t made for Scandinavians. I sweat like a whore in church. Humidity makes me cranky. I feel like I’m on a crowded Tokyo train platform from late June to late September. I hate Cincinnati summers.
Growing things made me feel differently about summer. I still sweat like a beastie, but my aggravation was eclipsed by my delight at seeing my first teeny, tiny snow pea pods forming. I felt deep satisfaction when we got much needed rain, and my pepper plants perked up. Growing things bonded me to the earth in ways I have never before experienced. Waves of wonder and joy passed over me as I watched my seedlings sprout from the ground, reaching for the sun.
Why am I growing things again? I love it. I’m tallying up how much my raised beds and mulch and peat moss will cost me this year. I’m adding in costs for a grow lamp and a bench. This year that green bean might be a couple of hundred dollars. It will be worth every penny.