The summer garden is radiant as a pregnant woman about to give birth. Full of life, she restores balance to lives too easily rushed through.
The garden blushes with promise of what might be. She teaches to be careful: guard against disappointment when "things" don't go our way. She teaches that we should remain in a state of gratitude. The grapes- even if the birds pick away the sweetest fruit- the leaves can be used to display cheeses on- or perhaps to feast on by stuffing with lamb.
Society garlic- Delight diners with an unexpected presentation. The blossoms make the loveliest garlic toast. Just mince the blossoms instead of the usual cloves and broil as usual.
Yesterday, the first tomato was ready to pick. Thanks partly to Mr. Cooper Hawk's daylight surveillance and the coyotes nightly vigil against critters scurrying in the night, this year we tasted this bounty before any bunnies.
Yesterday is done. Tomorrow, I cannot control. But I can welcome whatever it brings, for it will begin in my garden.