I am my father's daughter

Okay, my parents will honestly probably find this laughable.  Yes, I did grow up on a farm.  My dad was a farmer for my entire childhood. Did I embrace everything that living on a farm had to offer?  Of course not.  I spent my summer days sitting in our basement dreaming of the big city and wishing for air conditioning.  Did I observe my father's farming practices and my mother's gardening skills like a diligent student so that someday I could feed a small army with my homegrown skills?  No, instead I rolled my eyes at the suggestion of spending sultry summer afternoons in the kitchen freezing sweet corn, and couldn't tell a weed from a vegetable until my twenties.  So you can imagine my surprise when I went out to my vacation-neglected garden and saw this bountiful harvest.

No big deal right?  It's just a bunch of vegetables.  Do you know how long I've been trying to grow a successful garden?  For as long as I've been married.  This is my 7th year.  Those 7 years have included potted gardens, tiny gardens, and even a few completely dead gardens.  This is the first time I've ever had a successful garden. 

How did I celebrate?  With bruschetta for lunch, grilled peppers for dinner, and frozen pesto for all winter long.  If the windfall keeps up I might have to set up a vegetable stand in my front yard.  :)  Maybe I absorbed some of that farming knowledge from afternoons laying out at my family's pool, listening to Nirvana in my basement bedroom, or from my daily dose of Days of Our Lives.  I'd like to believe it's in my blood...that I can pull out my farm girl know-how when it counts.