June 3, 2011
I was so happy to be given use of part of another person’s garden. It is behind the rugby field ½ mile from where I live. About every evening after returning home, I don my garden sandals, grab my garden tools, and walk to my little Eden. I am feverishly planting whatever seeds I can find in hopes of tasting some of my own veggies before I have to leave or they are stolen.
Just like my garden of before, young Samoans unaccustomed to the feel of soft, cultivated earth beneath their bare feet, like to walk across my beds, and knowing only those veggies locally grown.
My Garden behind the rugby field
Can you recognize the veggies?
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