Sunday afternoons find him tending to the garden on hands and knees, but I'm much happier in the kitchen with no agenda but recipes in front of me. We have made peace with the fact that mainly it's his garden. I just get to enjoy the fruits of his labor, like turning peppers into jelly or tomatoes into sauce. I think I have the better end of the deal.
The creamy blossoms of spring have shown themselves for the first time on our two-year-old orange tree. Someday I look forward to juicing all of my own citrus and not only the leftovers from the neighbors, although they are very generous to pick them all and give them over to me!
Our garden is not as "landscaped" as those you find in magazines, but of a more spontaneous quality. Our kale, for example, is wild and overflowing, but full and healthy. And oh, so giving!
Even the cilantro, which has mostly gone to seed, is happy to offer its charming, delicate flowers and I am just as happy to admire them. Not at all regretful that its turning indicates a natural bitterness, because it's doing what it does, which is to live and then not, and that never ending cycle of ending but returning seems just right. There was plenty of cilantro to go around this time and they'll be plenty more at the next. In the meantime, why cut them off? The plant is too lovely to take it so seriously. I suppose that's why I'm not the one in charge of it!
