I want a garden, and I have no yard. But my friend Gayla can grow a meal in a coffee can. I worry about plants dying when I travel, and then crying because I am a murderer. But plants are not puppies. This is the year.
Suddenly there are nurseries everywhere, but I’m always too busy to stop. I see my hundredth nursery in a week. Do I want a garden or not? I pull a U to get at the parking lot.
My wallet is at home.
I scrounge pockets, purse change, and the car, and find $12 of cash. I am rich! I show the nursery lady my funds like a six year old. “I have $12.” She helps me choose plants, and throws in a plastic pot big enough for my tomato plant. Thanks, nice nursery lady.
A few days later, I stop by the hardware store for pots and soil. At home I make my pots all glittery , because I am happy.
And now I have a little family on the fire escape. Hello, sweet babies.
And look! Look! A tiny green cherry tomato. Her name is Georgina.
Is it weird to kiss a cherry tomato? Mah! Mah! MAH! I do not care.