The garden this summer has really turned into an extraordinary surprise. I started with about six tiny terracotta pots. I planted three seeds in each, sunflower, cucumber or tomato. The seedlings emerged and became taller and taller, so I quickly separated these into plastic pots, and so on. Now, the entire balcony is framed: towering mammoth sunflower plants on one side, and these gorgeous monstrous cucumber plants that reach up to my shoulder. Little cucumbers are pushing out the profusion of blooms. Not having done any homework on the subject, I wonder if they'll actually grow large enough to pick and slice up for sandwiches and salads. Maybe not, maybe I was supposed to prevent some of them from appearing? I'll learn more for next summer's crop.
As I write this now, Langston's is singing "Las Mañanitas" across the room as he follows the pages to a brand new board book from an aunt which came along with Abuelita yesterday. It's pretty with basic, colorful abstract shapes.
Long mornings are my favorite thing. I've been baking a little bit lately first thing the morning, oatmeal cookies, buttermilk biscuits from scratch. So something simple and sweet is nibbled, as that emerald sunshine I've come to associate with our new home dapples the balcony. I slowly drink my coffee and grin at Langston, who also chews thoughtfully, laughing and bursting into song occasionally along with the music from the kitchen. This morning, Langston pushed his plate to the side of his placemat as I was lost in my book, and he began making up a little song of his own, tapping images on the mat with his finger, "Coralllll....brain coral, mushroom coral...shark."
