Taking Solace in the Land

It's lovely at the end of the day to come home to the garden. I usually get home from work at about six-thirty, when the day has cooled and the golden light is slanting just over the edge of the redwood trees that line the end of the cul-de-sac where the garden and I live. It's a perfect time to work outside, still sunny and just cool enough so that I don't break a sweat, but not so cool that I need to put on a sweater. The neighborhood is alive at this time of day -- kids are playing tag in the park, parents are chasing their giggling toddlers around the children's playground, neighbors are coming out of their homes after dinner for a post-supper stroll or bike ride. It's such a lovely time, and I feel so grateful for my place in the world.

Speaking of neighbors, I've met several of my garden neighbors now. Jim and his wife Lisa, for instance, have been working a large plot near mine for 18 years. I was pleased to learn from Jim that I'm one of a long line of gardners who have lived in Trescony cottage and have had a plot in the community garden. It's great to talk to gardeners who have some history with the land; many of the newer gardeners have warned me off planting tomatoes (it's too foggy, they say) -- Jim, on the other hand, says go ahead and grow 'em, just don't get any water on the leaves and stop watering them altogether as soon as they set blossom. Good advice, and my tomatoes are thus far very happy and doing quite well.