Sometimes my tomatoes leave me messages.
Last week when I came home, I found these little notes.
Today when I came home, I realized that it's going to start raining this weekend, and it's time to till up the garden. Every time I've picked a ripe tomato, I've thought about the seeds I planted. The seeds wrapped in a paper towel that Sloane brought home from a Ukrainian lady last summer. The seeds that I planted in paper coffee cups, that grew in a little greenhouse, that eventually grew up in our garden box. And now we're eating the fruit, and the plants are officially a part of the compost. I love that the seasons are changing, and now I'm excited to watch my new winter seeds take root. It is strange to think that they will also be part of my compost next year. The tension between being excited about new life and anticipating the inevitable tilling up of old life kind of settles me I think. There's a peace in the process of these veggies, and I like it.