In between the hail and the snow of yesterday and today, a small moment of sunshine broke the monotony of the weekend. I was outside piddling around the garden when I realized that my radishes were ready to be harvested. This was ultimately exciting.
I've never really had a garden before. My parents always had a garden as we were growing up, but I didn't really pay much attention to it besides the Saturday's that included a chore list to "pick beans" or "strawberries", or "weed between the rows". And sometimes at the end of the summer we would have a war with the green tomatoes that didn't have a chance to ripen before the first frost. And by "we", of course, I mean the neighborhood kids, not mom and dad.
Anyway, I've been enjoying the experience of observing seeds germinate, sprout, and shoot up toward the world of today. And though I don't really like radishes, I ate one. And I ate the greens off the top too. I would eat one again, too, just because it was in my garden.