The kids were crying when we walked into the house, hungry from the lunch delay caused by “just one more stop”. I threw the mail on the table, unsorted, un-scanned, even. Lunch was the crisis of the moment. But when the kids settled into the subtle murmurs of leftover-laments, my eyes caught something in the stack. 
It’s my seed catalog.
Some women cry over the heroine’s hardships in the newest romance novel. I have my catalog.
This isn’t just any catalog. These are heirloom seeds; these are someone’s family inheritance, someone’s genealogical record found within grandma’s kitchen garden.
I am enthralled with the pictures, yes. But I’m enthralled with text.
There was a little old lady who took seeds to her friends, saying that her great grandfather brought them on the wagon train; all of her family is dead now. She died six months after that visit. Because of her gift, you can now sauté her family history with butter. A tear dashes to the page.
There was a family reunion in the bean garden: grandma loved her beans, but the kids didn’t garden. The granddaughter’s renaissance into the things of her grandmother’s day led her to a magazine article featuring her grandma and her beans! Those beans were brought to Missouri in the 1880’s by that granddaughter’s great-great grandmother! The granddaughter and the beans have been reunited.
Romance novels don’t have recipes for canning stuffed peppers! Did you even know that there is an heirloom breed of pepper called chocolate? This calls for a trip to the cupboard. I settle back in, this time with some herbal tea and the chocolate covered hazelnuts my sister-in-law sent.
Chocolate peppers, crimson carrots, white beets. Orange watermelon, blue potatoes, rainbow swiss chard!
We have snow on the ground here. My dreams of summer vegetables get me through these cold months, sheathed in winter’s darkness. My garden is only limited by my dreams. For now. In July I will tell you it’s the weeds, or drought, or something eating my radishes. But for now? It’s my vision of what the garden can hold—glossy pictures of glossy vegetables beckon me to dream. The stories of gardens-gone-by inspire me to try.
Get your free catalog at Seed Savers.