I KNOW that this is the way gardening is supposed to work. I'm SUPPOSED to plant my tomatoes and water them and feed them and at some point, they're supposed to produce fruit.
But it just...
I can't really express...
Here's the thing:
To me, each time the process works, I feel like I have personally received some sort of reassurance from the cosmos that life is chugging along the way it always has and, just maybe, always will. That despite all we've done to foul everything up on this planet and the horrible news stories and the war and waterboarding, in my tiny sliver of the world, all that is hopeful and miraculous and lovely is contained within this tiny green tomato.
I realize that's a lot of weight to put on this one fragile little thing but there are days when exactly this kind of reassurance is called for.
Happy Memorial Day.