The tomatoes are calling me. Zucchinis too. I heard them distinctly this morning as I walked down to the end of the driveway to pick up the newspaper. I was recalling that just two weeks ago at this time I was in the middle of a brisk six-mile walk through the countryside while today just walking to the mailbox feels like a major accomplishment, when suddenly a flash of orange caught my eye.
It was a squash blossom down in the garden. Zucchini or summer squash--it's hard to tell from a distance. I just weeded that squash bed two weeks ago when the plants were meek and scrawny, but today they send out hefty limbs and blossoms that promise a bumper crop of squash. I wasn't quite up to walk down the slope to the gardens, but I sensed those squashes hiding under the leaves, gathering their strength for a burst of growth which, if we're not careful, will result in a kitchen full of zucchinis the size of baseball bats.
They need attention, those zucchinis. They're right at the point where they need to be checked every morning so the tender young squashes can be picked before they turn into large inedible clubs. Meanwhile, they mock me. They sit in their shady lair and jes' grow, and there's not a blessed thing I can do about it.
And then beyond the squash patch is a row of bright green Bibb lettuce, which looks tender and juicy and ready to eat, and what a terrific salad it would make along with the tiny ripe red cherry tomatoes ready to pick at the other end of the garden. But bending and stooping are not in my repertoire of allowable activities right now, so I walked right by, sauntered right past the garden with my eyes averted. I can't see the gardens from up at the house, but I can hear them crying out to me, those vegetables. "We're growing," they say. "Come and get us while we're ripe!"
I'm supposed to be getting a lot of rest, but who can sleep when the vegetables are calling?
No comments:
Post a Comment