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When I was a child, I would go for long walks with my grandfather or my dad.  My grandfather and I would pick blackberries or pull up sassafras, dipping the roots in sugar and chewing them until they were frayed and flavorless.  Sometimes, we would drive around to find wild berry bushes, once stumbling upon wild raspberries.  My grandfather, a friendly man, took me to Amish farms where we would sit and talk, and I would stare wide-eyed at massive rams.  When we returned from our berry-picking expeditions, my grandmom would help me turn the berries into pies and jams.  There is truly nothing like homemade jam.  

My dad, while we walked, would tell me stories of growing up on a farm, slaughtering chickens and adopting a rooster.  In the woods, he would point out plants to me and teach me rhymes.  

I come from a solidly agricultural background. My dad and his five siblings grew up on a farm in what is now Bethesda.  My mother grew up working on her grandparents' tobacco farm every summer. And even my thoroughly suburban step-mother spent a great deal of her adult life on farms.  She introduced my dad to the joys of things foraged in the woods: mushrooms and fiddlehead ferns.  Despite my family's ties to the earth, I had a pretty thoroughly suburban upbringing.  

All the same, I loved green things, as much as I struggled to keep them alive.  We grew a few plants on our deck: tomatoes every summer, eaten like apples while still warm from the sun.  Every now and then we might attempt some melons, and one summer, we had strawberries in the backyard. I loved all that fresh produce, which developed into a love for the local Farmer's Market.

As I've gotten older and more aware, I have become more determined that my food should be fresh and that I should know where it came from.  The more of it that can come from my own hands, the better.  Sometimes, it is simply a matter of saving money.  Sometimes, it is for the joy of getting out into my garden and getting my hands dirty.  For the joy of eating something that I have watched from a seed or a flower. 

My husband and I dream of the day when we can have a bit more land, enough for a much bigger garden, a few chickens, and maybe even a goat. Some place where our dog will never have to be on a leash, in a house that is built sustainably and energy efficient. To perhaps even live off the grid.  For now though, we're trying to turn our townhouse in a highly developed area into a miniature homestead.