My six-year-old wanted a garden space of his own so we put together a 5 x 10′ bed with reclaimed cinder blocks I got from a demolition site. Writing about it now reminds me of when my dad did the same thing with me many years ago.
He chopped weeds, dug dirt and made that bed look great. I was impressed.
“What can I plant in here, Daddy,” he asked. “What can grow in the cold?”
“Well,” I replied, “We have these yacon tubers I need to plant.”
“Great,” he said, “let’s plant those!”
And he did. That kid never stops when he gets an idea in his head.
After we planted that bed, he then helped me plant a few more across the front yard food forest.
Sometimes people ask me why I have so many kids (that is, when they don’t immediately start out with insults relating to me and my wife’s extraordinary fecundity… we get plenty of those).
The answer, obviously, is farm labor. Plus, they’re the biggest blessing I could ever have. The haters are totally missing out.
And hey… what six-year-olds do you know that are growing their own esoteric crops? I’m raising a crew of little nature-loving permaculturalists who will add much more to the world than they consume.
No welfare, no food stamps, no hand-outs. Just us, God and the good earth.
And lots of yacon.