plenty
Sunday morning I got a knock on my new front door. At my old house, a knock on the front door meant either one, a friend, or two, UPS for Winslow, or three, someone claiming to represent God. But my friends don’t know my new door yet and Winslow doesn’t live here and God and I are doing fine unmediated, so when I heard this knock I nearly ignored it. But just in case I opened the door, and there was a neighbor with a big flat of tiny plants that he and his wife started from seed.He had seen me watering, so he brought them over. Broccoli and also! More tomatoes. So many tomatoes now that I will be canning for weeks, stewed tomatoes and tomato sauce, so many tomatoes that I will wander through the garden filling my mouth with Sweet Millions and Yellow Pears, biting at Glaciers like apples. I will slice tomatoes onto dark leaves from my bedroom basil; I will salt tomatoes with white discs of mozzarella. I will eat bowls of cherry tomatoes for dinner.
There are people who appreciate things that are rare because of how rare they are, but I tend more towards relishing the abundant. It’s not something I choose, any more than one chooses any of one’s likes and dislikes, but I count myself lucky for it. I’m thrilled that common things bring me such pleasure. Orchids are lovely but it’s easier to have a good day if you like dandelions. And I wouldn’t mind an artichoke, if only for the flowers. But I have tomatoes, one after another in conical wire cages, gray-green and growing and smelling like minerals. Come by in July and we’ll feast.
posted by tortaluga @ 9:40 PM
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