How Does Your Garden Grow?

Mary, Mary...
heading out this morning to take stock. It's fun having a project of one's own, a growing one, a fresh pantry. I'd be insulted if you offered me a few bucks to come pick though my gardens though. Not at the commercial transaction part. But there's a time and a place for that, not tromping with the unattended women and children through the fields. That's a no-no. You might get a "deal" sure, ("such a deal") but better to be a good neighbor?

I leave the farmhouse and walk over to the fields where Hmong families are growing market crops.
Do you suppose I could buy a head of lettuce? I ask. No answer. The two women getting ready to work in the fields do not speak English. They point to a person coming down the hill. I’m guessing it’s their daughter. Maybe. She’s of the next generation. Schooled here. She speaks English.
I ask for lettuce. She translates, but only in part. As a result, the women rush over and bring me a pint of raspberries. Oh dear. I most certainly do not need raspberries. I try again. Lettuce? Green lettuce?

The young girl translates some more. She tells me – it’s further in the field. Go pick your own. As much as you want. I hand her a few dollars. She refuses. I stick it in her pocket but she finds it and hands it back.