Sauerkraut and Lemonade

This weekend was one of those that involved working with the world: mowing and edging (my lawn as well as Nighean Dhonn's preschool), overseeding, and using some of what we grew: cutting cabbage for sauerkraut, making lemonade and orange juice from my in-laws lemons and oranges, shelling our corn from last year for culling, saving and planting (and cornbread).

There is something subtle yet satisfying - I don't know what - about using foods that you know were they came from, especially those that were grown by you. It is the satisfaction that, at some level, every gardener, livestock owner, farmer, or brewer/viticulturalist feels when eating their own food. It is the full end of the cycle: you, in concert with nature, helped to grow and raise this food. You known what went into it. You know where it came from. It is like earning a salary at the end of a pay period, but better - you can't directly eat a salary (but you can eat a celery purchased with your salary).

It is, I suppose, what calls people to garden or farm or raise grapes or rabbits or whatever: that call that I can work with nature and produce something of use.