A Romantically Farm Fresh Breakfast

There are certain times, when I think it's okay to romanticize the farming/gardening lifestyle. 

For instance, on a summer morning, when you realize that you can walk right outside your door, and gather enough food for breakfast, and that it couldn't possibly be any fresher. I don't think it will ever get old. I'll always feel like a garden-harvesting-virgin this time of year...*sigh*... what was I talking about?

Oh yes, it's the stuff fantasies are made of.

 The snap of the crisp scarlet red stem as you harvest some swiss chard... with it's red veins artfully contrasting against the shiny, dew-covered, dark green leaves, it's almost too beautiful to pick.

Snipping off a generous bunch of chives, which you know will taste amazing with those fresh eggs that you just collected, still warm in your hand...

Casually pulling up a recently flowered potato plant to collect those tender new potatoes as your stomach growls for a carb fix...

And tossing into your bowl or basket some nasturtiums, because they're really starting to bloom prolifically now. And who doesn't like flowers with their breakfast?

And then, you just go inside and throw it all into a pan together... with a little cutting and planning first, but not much.

And you know that you have created a meal that could not possibly be any fresher. No nutrients had time to deteriorate. No flavors had a chance to fade. You probably even consumed some dirt. From farm, to table.

What really gets me, and what I wish I had realized about 10 years ago, is that everyone can do this, at least to some degree. All it takes, is a small yard, to grow a garden and raise a few chickens for fresh eggs, vegetables, berries (maybe next year?), etc. Even apartment dwellers can garden in containers. It's not the cultural norm, to garden so intensively... but I think it should be.

Now, lets see how I feel this coming Winter, as I attempt to grow some cool-season crops, and I'm gardening in snow boots and gloves... still romantic? It doesn't hurt to fantasize...