Tuesday, June 9, 2015
I had finished my morning cappuccino and was ready to head to work. I was only a few precious minutes late, which is pretty good for me. My journey includes walking, then biking, then driving. I headed up the street on foot. There was no time and no reason to go to my community garden plot. It was northeast when I needed to travel northwest. I had watered everything the day before and the afternoon was supposed to rain anyway. We had done our fair share of weeding over the past few days, and thinning, and visiting with the garden frog, and so all was in tip top shape. If I pointlessly wandered over to the garden, that didn't need me anyway, I would be late. I would be forced to puff away mightily on the heavy city bike I use, and, exhausting myself, covering myself in sweatiness, I would arrive at the library so late that I would have to sneak in to work through the floorboards or something, if we had floorboards, which we don't. Plus, whenever I go to the garden I somehow manage to cover myself head to toe in dirt, like Pigpen. I don't like showing up at work too often looking like Pigpen and bathed in sweat. I don't want to develop a reputation. So, in every way, it was definitely for the best that I not go to the garden.
I went to the garden anyway.
The little tomato plants need me.