Year after year my husband and I reap more harvest from our garden than we can possibly eat in the summer or put up for the winter. And year after year I ask him, "Why do you plant so much?" His answer is always the same. "Because I never know what will grow and what won't."
So every summer I find myself inundated with heaps of vegetables and barely a space in the refrigerator for a carton of yogurt. He goes to the garden in the morning and comes back with a bucket, sometimes two, full of produce -- baby yellow squash picked at precisely the right moment for tenderness, shiny purple eggplant pretty enough for a picture, and crunchy cucumbers of which I eat so many, I feel like I'm in a pickle, pardon the pathetic pun. We bag produce and give it to others who like fresh vegetables and don't grow their own.
