Most Sunday mornings, when I am hoping for a much needed break from my mothering duties and a lie-in, MckDaddy announces that he needs to go to the allotment.
Most Monday evenings, when I am looking forward to MckDaddy arriving home to help with the fun that is dinner, bath and bed, I remember that he will be working at the allotment he shares with my Dad. What usually follows both of these events is some grumbling from me.
“Just wait, it will be worth it” he tells me, as he grabs his wellies and dashes off.
Well, I have waited and this Sunday he returned with a bumper crop that had us excitedly breathing in the scent of freshly picked vegetables and rushing to the recipe books.
Also this week Mini Mck and I spent a lovely morning picking fruit with my Dad at allotment #2. Mini Mck pulled the redcurrants straight off the plant and couldn’t get them in his mouth quick enough, which as a child that is suspicious of fruit had me bursting with pride and relief.
The need for patience doesn’t end once the crop has been picked, I realised, as I stood before a bowl of redcurrants still on their stalks and a mountain of peas still tucked safely in their pods.
I thought how much easier it is to grab a handful of frozen peas and throw them in some boiling water, but then I took a breathe and everything slowed down.
The back door was open welcoming in a beautiful sunny day, a play had just started on the radio and the baby was asleep. My hands were busy with the uncomplicated, methodical task, thus allowing my brain to wander and my mind to slow. Instead of cursing the extra effort involved in shelling peas and removing the tiny ruby-like berries from the stalks I enjoyed this rare moment of peace and solitude and decided I am a fan of delayed gratification