Once a foraging herbivore, always a foraging herbivore.
Drew came yesterday to pick up furniture with Pig-Van. I was at the office when he arrived, but came home soon after and fixed supper for us (shrimp jambalaya – yum!). I had a special treat for him, too.
When Drew lived at home he loved my vegetable garden. Don’t get me wrong – he didn’t like to work in it or anything like that. He just loved to eat out of it. Him, and God, and nature, and vegetables. No washing, no refrigerator, just straight from the garden. He was there often and would just graze through it.
This is the kid who, as a baby just learning to talk, would plead with me in grocery stores to PLEASE buy him turnips, broccoli, beans, peas – you get the idea. Women used to stare in awe and ask me how I did that. The secret answer? I didn’t; he came like that.
I had picked some fresh sugar snap peas earlier and put them in a plastic bag so he could eat them raw with supper. Sort of a throwback to earlier days, don’t you know, and the only thing ready for harvesting this early in the season since my lettuce and spinach seeds all washed away. I was surprised when he greeted them with a shy grin instead of open appreciation.
“Um, when I got here I went to the garden and ate all the peas before I even opened the door,” he said.
“Not the little ones, just the ripe ones,” he added defensively
I should have known.