Tomatoes
SOLANACEAE, The Nightshade family
When I came to my garden tonight I found the first ripe tomatoes, ‘Bloody Butcher’ and ‘Fourth of July’. I cried because I’m happy, because I feel the weight of the months and effort that went toward these fruits, because I was waiting patiently, because I miss my dad and the garden we made. These are garden thoughts. On this quiet slope that witnesses each evening evenly, it is easy to be. I feel the ease and sancticity of growing things, it is the simplest act, an ancient rite. Swallows weaving overhead and the small movements of the leaves in the breeze stir one’s attention, keep it widely focused, keep it moving, stretching. The plant’s cells recapitulate this motion.
