Hey there, Hive Garden! How's everyone doing here fellow garden lovers!

Let me tell you about the day i spent at my cousin’s place in Agusan del Norte, harvesting eggplants. He had called a week earlier saying “Come over i have got more eggplants than i know what to do with, and i need an extra pair of hands. You can take home as much as you can carry.” i did not need to think twice.

The drive up was one of those trips that slows down time. I left my place early before the sun got too harsh, and took the back roads that wind through coconut groves and small villages. Every turn brought something new kids chasing chickens in dusty yards old men sitting on stoops sharing stories the sweet smell of jasmine from someone’s garden. I had been so caught up in my daily rush lately that i had forgotten how much peace there is in the countryside how the land seems to breathe with its own rhythm..

When i pulled up to my cousin’s house his wife Liza was on the porch shelling peanuts. “There you are!” she called out wiping her hands on her apron. “We have been waiting. Grab a glass of water first the sun’s fierce today.” My cousin Kiko came out a moment later dirt under his fingernails and a grin on his face. “Ready to get your hands dirty?” he asked. We talked for a bit about work, about family about how the rains had come just in time to save his crops this season before heading out to the farm.

The eggplant patch was at the back of his property tucked between a row of mango trees and a small stream. And man it was a sight. The plants stood tall and sturdy their leaves a dark, glossy green and every single one was heavy with fruit. The eggplants were deep purple almost black in the shade their skins so smooth they looked polished. Kiko handed me a wicker basket the same one his father used, he said and showed me how to twist each eggplant gently at the stem, so you don’t tear the plant. “Treat them like they’re fragile,” he said. “Even the tough ones need care.”

We worked in silence for a while save for the buzz of bees and the rustle of leaves in the wind. My back started to ache after an hour, and my hands got sticky from the plant sap, but i didn’t mind. There is something grounding about being out there feeling the earth under your feet, pulling food from the soil. I thought about all the mornings Kiko must have spent here watering weeding watching for pests and how much patience it takes to grow something from a tiny seed. It made me think about how we rush through life wantin things to happen fast, but the best things good food strong relationships a life well lived take time to grow.

By mid day our baskets were overflowing. We had picked so many eggplants that we had to carry them back in two trips. Liza had already started cooking the smell of garlic and soy sauce filled the air when we walked in. She had made adobong talong grilled eggplant with bagoong and a stew with eggplant tomatoes and okra. We eat at the wooden table in the yard with the sun warming our backs and the sound of the stream nearby. It was the best meal i had had in months not because it was fancy but because it was real. Made with hands that care from food that grew from the land..

As the sun started to set, Kiko loaded a huge sack of eggplants into my car. “Share them with your neighbors,” he said. “Good food tastes better when you give it away.” On the drive home i looked at the sack in my backseat and i felt full not just from the food but from the day. From the time spent with family from the work of my hands from the reminder that there is beauty in the simple things.

That’s my story. It’s just about eggplants i guess but it’s also about so much more than that.. 🍆🍃