You Don't Get Veggies

I was so excited to vote for the first time and waited a long time in line. I showed my license for proof of identity, signed the registration sheet, was handed a ballot and ceremoniously stepped into the booth and drew the curtain. The Curtain! 

It was a momentous moment. My country cared what I thought. The Vietnam war. College tuition rates. Women’s equality. I was invited to have a say. 

People can't just go in and toss down a vote like it’s nothing. I mean, they CAN of course do that, but why even bother if they aren’t familiar with the issues and don’t care? It’d be like planting strawberries in winter. 

Gardening is like voting.  It's not neat and tidy or perfect: there's the muck and snakes and bugs, and a whole lot of manure to wade through. It takes effort and know-how to do it. Its not a one and done thing: the crop comes from the effort. In other words, if you don’t tend the garden, don’t expect to eat. 

Once the vote is cast and the garden is in, the real work happens. Situations arise that are unexpected - blossom end rot and infestations - that needs immediate attention. Representatives lose their way, vote against their platform, and need to be reminded of their oath. Propositions are not always in our best interests. Pork swings past attached to the tail of a valuable bill full of favors and payoffs.  All that’s between the system and its shortcomings is the gardener.  The crop’s the thing: the democracy.