Jane has gripped the green feathery top of a carrot and begun to tug. She rocks it back and forth, trying to coax the root from the ground. The earth finally yields, and Jane stands holding a perfect carrot.
Dave: It's a beaut.
Dave: Think about how that carrot came to be in your hand. Remember this spring when this garden was still just part of the lawn?
Dave: Do you remember cutting and ripping the sod with me? Turning over the dirt with our spades? Then mixing in manure compost?
Dave: Do you remember helping Mummy make ridges with the hoe to plant the seeds?
Dave: Do you remember putting the tiny seeds in the ground, covering them with dirt, and watering them?
Dave: And do you remember how you wanted to pick them as soon as you saw a tiny bit of green come up? But you waited, and weeded, and waited some more?
Dave: All that work made a carrot.
Her eyes have not left the carrot this whole time. She is ready to take a bite. She just has one more thing to say.
Jane: I deserve this carrot.