Growing up, my grandfather tended a plot of land filled with vegetables. He would finish his days in the fields growing tobacco or cotton or corn or soy, and take me out into his vegetable garden. I loved it. It seemed huge. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized that, well, it was huge for our small family. He always planted more than he needed because there were people in our small rural community who couldn’t get out and grow their own food. He grew enough to share.
I’ve been thinking about that garden all summer. Not just because I miss Papa, although I’m sure that is part of it. But also I’ve just been really focused on the idea of abundance. The fact that there really is enough to go around. I live in the South, and there is nothing like summer, being surrounded by lush vegetation and the humidity that forces you to take a seat on the porch and listen to the cicadas for the spell, to remind you that if we slow down, and realize that we are taken care of if we allow ourselves to be, and if we care in return, we have all we need.
That’s the thing though, right? Community and abundance are inherently intertwined. When we have a community, a network, a social safety net, we have more than enough to go around. That’s why mutual aid is such a crucial piece of infrastructure in community care. But it doesn’t even have to express itself though big organized action. I was reminded of how it can show up in your kitchen this weekend.
I did a lot of baking this weekend, including blueberry muffins to thank a neighbor who watered my garden while I was away on vacation. I used blueberries that I picked both at a local farm and in our backyard. And for a moment, I was really stressed about giving away those blueberries. But then I remembered that 1) I might not have those blueberries to share if they hadn’t watered them and 2) even as I was mixing the batter, there were more blueberries ripening on the bushes. There was and is enough to share.
We have enough, if we only reach out to have people to share with.