I have long wished to be a gardener. Generally, I want to garden vegetables. I like to be able to eat the fruits of my labor. Last year, I planted several kinds of tomatoes. I have a topsy turvy type deal. I got it for two dollars and the commercials were very convincing.
When I was a child, my mother and my stepfather grew tomatoes and watermelon. The watermelon were eaten by animals, but I remember the taste of the tomatoes. They were sweet and still warm from the sun. The had a little extra something that those grocery store fruits just never had.
As a matter of fact, I think most of the folks in my neighborhood grew something. The neighbors across the street had orange and grapefruit trees. They used to let us climb up and take what we wanted. When you grow something like that you always have more than you can handle and you’re trying to find someone, anyone, to take some. It’s awful for something so wonderful to go to waste.
I know a man next door to us used to keep pigeons. I don’t know if he ate them or not, but despite being somewhat crazy in other regards, he was kind to the birds. (Pigeons are apparently a very common food in France, so it’s not really gross if you think about it. I wouldn’t want to eat a New York City pigeon though. Ew.)
I put Jack down for his nap and I went out to settle in my plant. This year I only bought one. If I accidentally let it die, again, I am only out three bucks and a tiny bit of self esteem. (PLANT KILLER! PLANT KILLER! BLACK THUMB!)ff
Here’s to you, Kid.