By Amber Burchett
Sugar snap peas. We’re gonna miss those sweet candy bars of nature, as I like to call them. Though some might think that’s an extreme description. And to those who may not think something green can be so good I say “have you ever tried one?!”
I’m not going to miss them as much as I do the sweet communion under shady trees that harvesting these peas provided.
On the last week of the plant’s existence in the gardens this year, a beautiful hardworking resident and I pulled up every one of the plants and hauled them in wheelbarrows down to the refuge of the shade tree to pull off the last of the sweet temptations. Soon we were joined by another lovely resident working on the stipend program (some of our shelter residents choose to work a number of hours per week for a monetary return).
Chatter ensued as we learned about each other, where we came from and the different cultures that were sitting together. Not much more time passed before a little child wandered over, plopped down and started picking off peas with us. The conversation soon reached a new depth as this sweet little girl began asking the cutest, most insightful questions about one of the lady’s home country. Questions like “What kind of animals live there?” or “What do your houses look like?”
I was thoroughly enjoying the answers to her questions until the wheelbarrow grew empty, and I went back for more peas.
When I came back, this little girl had run off somewhere else for a bit, and that was when the recipient of her questions began to tell me about a precious moment that had just happened. The little girl had asked her if she had any friends in the United States to which this lady replied “No…” With a big smile of amusement and appreciation she then told me that the little girl’s immediate reply was “Well, I’m your friend.”
A common place where all are equal, the work is shared and the atmosphere safe. These are the kind of mind- expanding moments for little girls, outreach of friendship for those who need a friend, and confirmation of the need for more places that allow this. In these small moments that may never be recorded, never told of, but always remembered.
Amber the Garden Intern