This morning I was thinking about how my tiny grandmother single-handedly farmed an acre of land for years.
She kept her entire extended family fed. My parents would groan about her bags of vegetables every time she visited, which to me seemed so strange.
I have memories of plates of fresh veggies and pickles at her house every time we would visit which was so vastly different from my home life. I still think part of why I learned to cook so young was to honour my grandma's vegetables so they didn't rot in our fridge.
I don't think I realized what a powerhouse she was. She was a single mom in the 50s who raised two kids and eventually saved enough money to buy a tiny house with a big lot beside it to immerse herself in gardening when I was small. I was lucky to have her in my life.
