Each bite a memory...

So, I'm sitting here at work eating my lunch, some white chili that I had made the other night, and as I stared down into the bowl it occurred to me that the majority of what I was putting into my belly was grown right in my own yard. Everything but the Northern beans and the spices lived and died at Red Rooster Ranch.  The chicken in it ate our bugs and grass.  The chicken broth had been canned in our kitchen from birds we raised.  The potatoes grew big in our front yard and waited patiently in our basement for their moment to shine.  The onions too grew up right there in the yard, just down the row from the zucchini that didn't make it this year.  Tate and I planted the garlic last year on Columbus day and then pulled it and dried it on our front steps.  Let me tell you, it was pretty gratifying.  Each bite was a memory really.  Memories of warmer weather and of spending time in the garden with my beautiful wife and our kids.  These, I think, are the things that matter most in life.