I’m new to this gardening thing. I have done small raised beds before, but each time I have moved within a year, not by choice. This is a second year and I have great hopes history will not repeat itself. What I have realized however, is that this garden thing is work. There is this planning, plowing, tilling, ordering, planting, seeding, and weeding, did I mention weeding, and picking, cleaning, preserving. Yes there is a lot of work involved. Last night, we had collards that were less than an hour from being picked, corn from last year and romaine lettuce from the day before. Yes, if I had opened a can the collards would have been ready in minutes, but I knew what all was in what I cooked; only the salt and bacon I added, no preservatives and chemicals. The other day I was at the grocery store and saw a pound and a half chicken breast. Does anyone wonder how big that chicken was, how many hormones and other things were in that chicken? I was once young and invincible, but now I have children and grandchildren. What they put in their bodies matters to me now. Guess what, it may take more work to prepare the garden, clean the greens and cook them than opening a can and dropping the contents into a pot, but maybe, just maybe, my grandchildren will be healthy, live long and prosper.