A living, growing salad bar

Look at that lettuce. Look at it and tell me you could resist a nibble. Looks good enough to eat, doesn’t it?

This is my mom’s lettuce, growing in her backyard in Boise, Idaho. I discovered it about two minutes after I arrived last week. After about 3 seconds of guilty hesitation, I ripped off a leaf, wrapped it around a chive (see them there in the center, looking all delicious?) and stuck it all in my mouth.

Then I had another. And another. And a few more. Then I found her fresh cilantro, and had a few more salad rolls. I’m telling you people, if I didn’t know better, I would think my mother had been growing the plants in some sort of addictive narcotic.

This lettuce became many salads over the weekend. We also enjoyed it in tacos with cilantro. And we added her fresh thyme to some dandy potatoes.

This. This is why I garden. Fresh produce is so delicious. Nothing in the world can beat the flavor of fresh fruits and veggies. A fresh tomato is enough to make me want to write poetry. I don’t, though, and you should all be grateful for that. (If you write veggie poetry, though, you should definitely share.)