My dad and I had a garden.
I ate kumquats and sugar peas, and sometimes we would cut up a zucchini, fry it in bread crumbs or tempura batter, and that was lunch.
On our way to get frozen yogurt on Sunday afternoon, David and Alice and I met a woman who was walking around the neighborhood with grocery bags full of greens.
We said hello, and she seemed to size us up.
“Do you like Swiss chard? Do you know what to do with Swiss chard? Do you know what Swiss chard is?”
She and her husband were about to be out of town for a couple of weeks, so they decided to clean out their garden. We decided to be the kind of people who accept produce from strangers, and David took one of the grocery bags. It was that kind of day.
In our garden, strawberries are turning red, and orange blossoms are drawing bees. There are the beginnings of apricots and nectarines — little fuzzy green things that I think could ripen in perfect baby-food time. And the cherry tree we planted a week before Alice was born has thin branches full of leaves, slowly uncurling.
(The springtime weather has me feeling very craft-y. I could make a quilt out of the layette…)