CHAPTER I 

 AT THE GATE 



GATES lead to many vistas, some unpleasant, some en- 

 chanting; we seek a gate to something fresher, something 

 finer. In any case, the gate of which we think here 

 leads to a garden, a garden where, among other things, vegeta- 

 bles grow. 



And it may have been forgotten, in the joy and fascination 

 of coaxing forth the first plants in our garden, that the gate 

 was an old gate, makeshift and unattractive, and that we hadn't 

 been quite as neat as we might have been about clearing away 

 the rubbish, the ashes and old tin cans which were all too obvious 

 to the friends who visited our vegetable garden. 



The spirit of War Work inspired us to become gardeners. 

 We may have had our doubts and fears at the start; but ex- 

 perience has banished them quite. It was splendid exercise, it 

 was interesting, and there was a new appeal about the home- 

 grown delicacies which graced the table. They surely had a 

 freshness and flavor that vegetables, gathered up, half-wilted, at 

 the corner grocery, couldn't possibly have. 



A garden is a precious thing. The wonderful thing about 

 it is that it can be made to feed not the body alone but the spirit 

 also. Even a vegetable garden can be made beautiful, pos- 

 sessing a happy at-one-ness with the rest of the home grounds. 



