As Simple As A Sandwich

November 16, 2022 

I slept until noon haunted by delirious dreams. There were strange realities and different realms of confusion. It was the strangest sleep I have had. As if I were having fever dreams without the fever. 

So covered in cat, I spent my day drinking things that help me feel better. Hoping to be rid of whatever is causing my weird ears and yuckiness. Thankfully my heel healed beautifully overnight by the end of the day I was walking without problems. 

By late afternoon I was finally ready to eat something. The gluten free flatbreads in the freezer that I save for moments when I'm in need of comfort food were a good choice for today. With a diagonal cut I separated the halves of the bread. Triangles being more fun to eat than rectangles. Spreading a thin layer of mystery pesto a dear friend of mine had just gifted me from the bounty of her summer's labor I started thinking about the food that I was about to eat. The green peppers plants that bore the fruit of the pepper I was now slicing are upstairs in the bathroom producing more fruit in our jungle of goodness. The tomatoes that bore the fruit I was putting next on my sandwich are growing next to them in the same bathroom jungle. The onion was a store bought one, and they made me sad that the tiny onions we did manage to grow in the garden weren’t here to be a part of my sandwich. 

The coho bits were left over from last night’s dinner. The coho that swam up the inlet, past our house to the old horse pasture, where it was caught and brought to us for nourishment. All parts we won't eat buried and nourishing the garden outside the front door. It melted beautifully into the tiny bits of goat mozza I have as a treat occasionally. 

A thick layer of fresh alfalfa and clover sprouts shrunk and softened as I heated the sandwich into a pile of homegrown goodness. 

Bread, cheese and onions. The only parts of the sandwich paid for by time sold to someone else. 

I thought about what has had to happen over the years for this sandwich. All the failures, and successes. The sweat, the tears, the mud, so many nights when all I wanted to do was give up because after all can’t we just buy food from the groceries store? 

In our case, no. The food is unreliable. The ferry gets canceled. The shelves go bare. That’s not why we grow our own food but it certainly makes it easier not to quit when it’s rained for two years and the puddles in the garden are taller than my boots. 

The sandwich that now so seems simple separated from all the complications of seven years worth of strife. 

I bite into it. The perfect flavor and crunch. The perfect comfort of hot melty goodness for a day spent on the couch covered in floppy cat. With my belly full of hopes and dreams I allowed myself to find even more inspiration in my food. 

The seeds for the 2023 garden came in the mail today, along with the first of the mushroom kits. Golden oyster mushrooms. I can hardly wait. 

After reading the instructions twice and carefully sterilizing everything I cut the X in the bag provided. The rich substrate made of sterilized hard wood chips and organic wheat bran smelled of the most delicious nutritious soil. Brent and I were both excited to see the white webbing of mycelium woven into the dark substance forming the symbiotic relationship fungus is famous for. 

I misted the small humidity tent and tucked it into the perfect spot in the bathroom jungle where it will have just the right amount of light and just the right amount of heat. 

Pea shoots are one of the only DOA rich foods and I found them to be one of the more helpful things for my strange histamine issues. The are however $7 or more a handful. That’s 20 minutes of my work day’s wages, not to mention that every handful comes in a very hard to reuse plastic container. So every handful of pea shoots that make my skin feel better for a day put a sizable bite in my paycheck and adds to my garbage guilt. 

So for one and a half hours worth of my time at work I bought 5 lbs of pea shoot seed in a reusable bag and this winter I’m going to get just as good at pea shoots as I am alfalfa sprouts. One species of plant and one method at a time I will figure out how I can grow my food. And if I’m patient with myself and find ways it will work for me then it can be as simple as a sandwich and I’ll get to spend more time snuggling my cats or riding my horses.