In these days of jaded appetites, condiments and canned goods, how fondly we turn from
the dreary monotony of the “dainty” menu to the memory of the satisfying dishes of our
mothers! What made us, like Oliver Twist, ask for more? Were those flavors real, or was
it association and natural, youthful hunger that enticed us? Can we ever forget them; or,
what is more practical, can we again realize them? We may find the secret and the answer
in mother’s garden. Let’s peep in.
The garden, as in memory we view it, is not remarkable except for its neatness and
perhaps the mixing of flowers, fruits and vegetables as we never see them jumbled on the
table. Strawberries and onions, carrots and currants, potatoes and poppies, apples and
sweet corn and many other as strange comrades, all grow together in mother’s garden in
the utmost harmony.