REAPING WHAT YOU SOW

This is the time of year I tally up the fruits of my wife's labor in the vegetable garden.

The yield from this year's harvest: (8) tomatoes -- (6) with chipmunk bites taken out of them, (4) servings of leggy broccoli, (12) beans -- every year is our worst year for beans, (7) carrots, (20) servings of rosemary and tarragon, (30) servings of lettuce, (2) eggplants, (15) Brussels sprouts, kale (enough to feed the British army), and snow peas, 15 pods. Okay, let's monetize this.

Adding up the yield at fair supermarket prices, ka-ching, ka-ching and ka-ching. Okay. $127.49. Sounds pretty good, right?

Now, let's rewind back to last spring to look at the expense side of the equation.

Seems like just yesterday. Let's see. We had (15) 75 lb bags pine mulch, (12) 60 lb bags of potting soil, (17) 60 lb. bags of manure, (3) bags of lime, (1) shovel, (8) different kinds of lettuce flats, (12) different herb flats, tomato plants, (1) garden fork, (8) broccoli plants, (1) gardening hat, spinach, kale, beans, eggplant, (1) knee cushion, dozens of seed packets, and assorted flowers to line the garden.

With a procession of illegal aliens pushing a train of gardening carts, we arrived at the checkout counter. My wife proudly pointed out her purchases to the clerk while I gave last rites to my wallet. Ka Ching, 14.95, ka ching 59.95, ka ching 29.95, ka ching, 12.95, ka ching, ka ching, ka ching, and on and on and on.

Out the window, I saw a forklift laden with hundreds of pounds of denatured cow dung heading for my freshly vacuumed car.

Anyway, the hills were alive with the sounds of ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching. Okay, the tale of the tape? $1,636.36 for the 20' X 20' garden.

After one look into my eyes, the clerk advised me to beat my swords into plowshares and yes, my spears into pruning hooks. They wheeled me out in one of the garden carts.

So, now that the harvest is in, let’s see how we did. We have the $1,636.36 cost minus the $127 and change for the fair value of the yield. Ka-ching and ka-ching. Got it. We're in the hole $1,508.77 -- not counting the 1,930 hours of labor. And my car still smells like a barn.

It reminds me of a farmer friend of my Dad’s in Hinesburg, Vermont. He told us he bought an emaciated horse in the fall for $220, fattened him up over the winter, and sold him in the spring for $220. My father told him, “Why, you can’t make any money that way.” The farmer replied, “I found that out.”

Of course, it's not just about the money. Though it's the world's most expensive sport, gardening purifies the materialistic soul. Gardening is the new yoga.

In fact, gardening is so redeeming that those with a tough row to hoe, like convicted politicians, pimps, and pushers, are all purging themselves between the pickets. Other than turning to Jesus, nothing will get a judge to lower your sentence faster than gardening.

In all fairness to my wife, the indigenous animals seem to know exactly when she's about to harvest her crop. Every year, in a game of chicken, they arrive 10-minutes before she does, and make off with the choice vegetables. They even know our vacation schedule. So part of our harvest we write off as wildlife payola.

But think the good we're doing for the Earth, says my wife. Great point. So I computed the carbon footprint of our yield -- that is, the amount of energy required to produce our purchases. It turns out our bitter harvest has the same carbon footprint as producing (2) H-2 Hummers.

A word to the wise, though. If you love the gardener in your family, as I do mine, you won't dwell on any of the above.