Gathering Real Food
(Page 6 of 6)
April/May 2004
By Linnea Johnson
Later—when I grew a bantam garden of salad greens and a couple of tomato plants—my little son spent a good part of spring among spinach he'd planted, waiting for it to grow tall enough for him to nibble on. And my daughter would play under our sole peach tree until the first fruit ripened and we could have our summer peach party.
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I was brought up, and I brought up my children, among real people around a happy table laden with Real Food, spiced with real fun.
Food is how the environment enters our cells, our blood. From mother's milk to holiday feasting, now more than ever, what we eat is who we are physically, communally and politically. Food is family and celebration mirroring the design of life itself. Buying from local growers with the cycle of seasons is simply the best way to savor the true spirit, sum and substance of Real Food!
Linnea Johnson writes stories, poems and novels, yearns for truth, aches for wisdom, but usually can settle for a lovely peach and blueberry pie nestled into a flaky shortbread crust.
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