Mutiny on the

summer bounty

Ah, the fruits of summer. Or, in my case, the vegetables.

Once the harvest begins, all healthy and pesticide-free, and the summer sun beats down on the vegetable beds and the lacy vines begin to take over the planting bed, it is so gratifying knowing that, with a little care and the miracles of nature, I can produce my own healthy food for my growing family. Fruits and veggies plucked and eaten while still warm from the sun.

At the end of each day I harvest whatever has matured in that day's sunshine. It's amazing, really, how quickly these luscious edibles mature-kind of like the oversized pods in "Night of the Living Dead," only healthier. And they don't come with little individual stickers on them, like the ones at the grocery store.

Only problem is, who's going to eat all of this good stuff?

My family has informed me that they "don't do zucchini or cucumbers." A bit of a surprise but not really a shock. But, whatever will I do when the Japanese eggplant kicks in. And the bell peppers. (Why, oh why did I go for the bargain six-pack of seedlings when I could have gotten one healthy 4-inch plant and called it a day?)

Good lord! My vegetable bed runneth over and I've got a family raised on fast food. They wouldn't know a zucchini if it smacked them upside the head, which is what I feel like doing when I present a steaming plate of freshly picked and gently grilled greens for their consumption only to hear the plaintive, "Great, mom. But what's for dinner?"

Now that my veggies have begun to ripen in earnest and each day's harvest is filling my Martha Stewart-esque straw basket, I'm wondering just how many garden veggies I can consume before my skin starts to turn green. Someone's got to eat them, right?

I've already been giving away these lovely, natural packages of earth-grown vitamins. But even Grandma and the neighbors seem to have had enough-and it's only July.

Whatever will I do when the tomatoes ripen? Red pasta. Tomato and cucumber salad with fresh chives and basil from the garden. Tomato in cacciatore. Tomato soup. Tomato slices on top of just about anything. Tomato face mask?

Cucumber salad. Cucumber slices. Cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off. (And I'm not even a member of a women's luncheon club.) Cucumber over cereal? What?

As you can see, I'm open to innovative suggestions. Zucchini grilled. Zucchini sauted with olive oil. Zucchini with basil and tomato. Zucchini bread. Zucchini pie? Zucchini ice cream?

I knew I should have kept my kids on organic baby food longer-say 10 years longer. But let's face it, once they've tasted Carl's Jr., there's no turning back.

If ever I could have a "doover" this would be it. I would raise my crew completely isolated from the 21st century idea of food.

Like so many things in our culture, growing our own vegetables is a throwback to days gone by when families actually subsisted on the fruits of their labor. That was before TV dinners turned into gourmet frozen food, when Donna Reed wore her apron all day long and women weren't welcome in the workplace unless they were taking shorthand.

Today it's all so different. Food has become something we get by driving through a pit stop like a gas station. Drive through. Fill up. Wipe salty hands on blue jeans. Take a Tums at the next red light and Keep Going.

Let's not even talk about sugar, how it is poured into our children at every stop in their day. Sweets at school. Sweets at church. Sweets at baseball practice. Sweets at the hardware store and the bookstore. Sweets between sweets.

No wonder my zucchini doesn't look so good to them- and I admit it's losing some of its appeal for me, too.

So I guess I have a choice: get one of those vacuum-pack gadgets to save the summer's bounty for winter's lean months or learn to grow French fries.