Breakfast in the Garden

I could actually dine in the garden with the good china, the polished silver and the sparkling crystal. I could even dress up and make it an affair to remember.

I could, but I don’t. It is much more likely to see me in the early morning, foraging for breakfast.

Usually starting off with an appetizer, I head to onions and break off a spear or two of the green tops. The green peas pods snap as I bite into them. Then I wander around the cabbage and broccoli, weed around the plants and snag a few tender leaves to eat as I continue my meal.

I eat the radishes by the handful, and cool my mouth by thinning the lettuce and promptly eating the baby greens.Next could be a bunch of spinach or two before moving on to the next course.

I check the summer squash and devour  a crookneck with the blossom attached. I reach down to pull a miniature carrot, not even the thickness of a pencil, that has been planted too thick and snack away.

No breakfast would be complete without the sweetness of strawberries or raspberries to complement the feast.

I even peek into the apple tree to see if that is a possibility, but the earliest apple is the Yellow Transparent and they are still only the size of golf balls. Too hard and much to sour to even nibble. I’ll still have to wait several weeks for the apples and the plums and pears will be later than that.

Without a table or the fancy accoutrements, and me comfortable(well-worn) jeans and a t-shirt, my breakfasts in the garden are affairs to remember.

I’ll raise my bok choi leaf in salute to the rural life, and continue to chomp my way through the garden for breakfast.