Kids are natural when it comes soiling their hands doing farm activities. You just guide them and they tend to get involved. Sanskriti and Rani, daughters of SS, who visited my farm recently, kicked their shoes off the moment they stepped in the compound, just like their dad does. Both have grown up in city, surrounded by concrete structures but for the greens on their window sill.
Reminds me of Shakespeare: And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.
Both kids dug up the earth, filled the pit with organic manure and transplanted the Zucchini and pumpkin saplings grow on coca peat, on a patch close to the papaya trees. Seeing the thread-thin roots spread on the brown coloured cocapeat, Sanskriti, the younger one exclaimed, “How lovely? “ and asked “How long will it take to give fruits?”
“Ninety days from now,” I said.
“We will come to pick the fruits,” she said.
“Sure,” I said
They watered the plants, pulled out the weeds, collected dry leaves to deposit them into the vermicompost pit and interestingly moved about as if visiting the Garden of Eden.