A Fistful of Lettuce
Flick off the slugs and eat it right there in the garden.
A few weeks ago I covered the sentinel row of fall greens to protect them from imminent hard frosts. I was so proud of myself for finally finding the time to plant lettuce and kale this year in the midst of the busy harvest time. Watching them thrive through the drought with minimal watering was even more satisfying. I gathered just enough vegetables for meals twice a week. Discovering the plants replenished with new growth every time I visited them felt like magic in November when everything living thing is dying or going underground.
The row cover blew away within 24 hours. From my bedroom window I could see the leaves darkening and wilting. One particularly cold day I went out and found the lettuce fully dead and the kale frozen solid. I picked the kale anyway and was surprised at how lively it remained as it thawed. When my son came home from a semester in London, his first meal request was my hearty Italian vegetable soup with lentils, pasta, and sausage. So the last of our nutrient-dense, homegrown kale was given its due honor and used to celebrate his homecoming.
It’s been a difficult season. I’m emerging from a period of personal turmoil but remain mired in a dark and messy time for my country and for people I care about. Distracted by anxiety, not much holds my attention besides cozy British murder mysteries and my favorite 2048-inspired computer game combining holiday-themed bubbles into Santas. The teetering pile of intelligent, insightful books I desperately want to read grows taller each week next to my bed. The yoga membership goes unused. Exercise is a monumental effort. The weather is cold, the sky dark. The house feels closed-up and airless, even though I light candles and incense.
But today, the long fog burned off, the slush melted, and the sun came out. It’s 55 degrees and sunny as I write this. I even cracked a couple of windows open. Prepared for disappointment, I went out to the garden to see if maybe some kale or Asian bitter greens survived. And I was rewarded. The kale is robust, and even some of the lettuce is perky and upright! I plucked a handful of lettuce and found a slug tucked into the stem. Unfazed, I flicked her away and stuffed the leaves straight into my mouth, snapped a few photos to cement the happy moment in my mind, then went into the house and got back to work.
Saturday is the winter solstice, where the sun pauses for a moment before the light starts returning and the days get longer. That’s something.