144 MY GROWING GARDEN 



been well maintained, and a rich abundance is 

 found of good things to eat — things to eat the par- 

 taking of which means no shedding of blood, no 

 cessation of sentient life. At once, and without any 

 particular thought about it, we become mostly 

 vegetarian in our diet. Why not, with such sweet 

 com as awaits us, the product of our own land? 

 The sort we find ready now is Goldenrod, of 

 most delicious flavor and notable sweetness, which 

 bears more and larger ears than the earlier favorite 

 Golden Bantam. We have it boiled, an hour 

 from the growing stalks; or we have, in heu of a 

 roast, a great corn pie, or "pasty," that makes 

 meats a mere imimportant recollection. 



Little beets, meltingly tender; yellow-podded 

 snap beans, causing gratitude that they came on 

 the table without the aid of a can-opener; spinach 

 that has the flavor only possible in freshly plucked 

 spinach; tomatoes that sUce into small steaks of 

 dehcate flesh, with very little of seed cavity; 

 carrots that hardly need to be creamed at aU; and 

 lima beans of the right size, fresh, and enough of 

 them to satisfy a certain garden-maker who thinks 

 he could about live on such beans and suitable 

 bread — and all these available so as to give us our 

 two vegetables for each dinner in a succession that 

 prevents monotony. 



