Never having lived on a farm, most of my experiences with food is what I buy. However, a small vegetable garden my parents’ tended to and my chore of picking ripe tomatoes and cucumbers off the vines gave me an early appreciation for fresh produce.

As a teenager I spent a week on a farm in Vermont. Virtually everything was home grown. Few things I’ve eaten since compare.

I have been invited to dinners where the fare was simple but the lettuce and other vegetables came a few feet from where I dined. Buying as I often do prepackaged, prewashed salad from a store tastes like a completely different entity. I concede to the ease and conveniently forget what I am missing.

In my travels I have seen men and women toiling in fields sometimes aided by oxen and horses or basic tools. It reminds me of the hard work growing food entails.