Garden Journal: Sneaky Sneaky

Here’s something I love: students sneaking fruits and vegetables from the garden. I can understand Mr. Mcgreggor’s aversion to rabbits, but even he would have succumbed to the sweetness of a five-year-old playing coy about the six carrots he has stuffed in a single tiny pants pocket. Or the 7-year-old with tell-tale sticky blue fingers. Or the 10-year-old who has disappeared in the sugar-snap-peas for the third time.  

Most students I discover with cheeks stuffed like chipmunks have a certain gleam in their eyes. They are thrilled by their own audacity. The carrot in their hand is an illicit treasure, a cookie from the cookie jar, and they’ve been bold enough to it take from right under my nose. In these cases, I like to play along:

 “Hey you! What’s that I see in your hand, huh?!”

They try to hide it, I pretend to be horrified:

 “A CARROT. You’re eating a CARROT? The HORROR! How could you!” 

I throw my arms, I gnash my teeth, I faint! The performance is rewarded with big messy grins on dirty faces, and a half-dozen more carrots missing from bed 23. 

Some students do not gleam when caught. They look down, they frown. These students, I reassure. “I’m so glad you found the carrots! Will you pick one for me?” We hangout and eat together. We pick more for our friends and teachers. We throw blueberries high in the air and catch them in our mouths, we try strawberries wrapped in mint leaves, we slice a beet in two and use the pieces to cover our arms in polka-dots.

In the end, every student who works in the garden knows they can snack, taste test, and feast to their heart's content. I’m sure Mr. Mcgreggor would be aghast, but I couldn't be happier to see the things I grow consumed with wild and reckless abandon.