As I ate my roasted cauliflower and spinach with various other ludicrously healthy things this evening, I felt a nostalgic joy in knowing the ingredients had been picked with intentionality and love. My gratitude to the God of creation felt more tangible than it would have had I not cared about my food’s journey from seedling to spiced goodness on my plate.

It struck me afresh the simplicity of how amazing it is, the simple idea that we sow, we grow, we wait, we reap. I remember as a child the wonder I felt at this discovery, watching my cress grow erratically in cotton wool on the kitchen window sill.

Somehow along the way, full to bursting of convenience-food, no-time-to-taste and mounds of packaging, I’d become numb to this wonder.

What we see on our plates represent such mind-boggling earth-processes – how could we not want to feel connected to it? I’m thinking about volunteering at a community garden nearby. I think I want to be a grower. Be connected to these cycles of planting, nurture, growth, death — death which in its very decomposing gives way to new life in the soil.

Following the rhythm of the seasons and not only feeling but SEEING the reality of spring in those first spinach greens after a long, frozen winter. I feel those seasons in our own lives would feel somehow less alien and overwhelming if we are able to see them in the context of a grander season-story. Maybe we would learn to live more within our means if we practiced not living beyond the means of the earth around us.

(Disclaimer: I do believe trade is important so am not quite sure how to reconcile localism and fair global trade – because both are needed, I’m sure. And life without coffee, without sugar, without mangoes every now and again would be a sadder one.)