Eating from the Garden
In late May, you plant some tomatoes. Of various colors and varieties. 16 plants is a good idea.
And around the same time, you put about 6 plants of basil in your herb garden.
Along the fence of your herb garden, you stick a bunch of nasturtium seeds in the dirt.
So you wait. And you marvel at the God of the sun and the rain and the dirt.
Then one day in August, when the moon is about half full and the temperature is around 84 and you are grilling a flank steak (or two), go ahead and wander into your garden. Pick about 5 tomatoes, some yellow and some red. Grab a few crowns of basil off your plants. And pick a handful of sweet, peppery nasturtium flowers.
Bring the mess into the house. Blow off the bugs, rinse off the dirt. Slice, chiffonade, arrange on a pretty and cheap sunflower plate from the dollar store. Drizzle with olive oil, add a few grinds of salt and pepper.
Then smile. And inhale. And smile some more.
Go ahead and eat it. Let the oil dribble down your chin. But by all means, make sure you have a hunk of crusty white bread, so you can mop the tomato-juice-olive-oil-salty-glory off the bottom of the platter.
Because you know you want to.