I ordered seeds today from Seeds of Italy and Cook’s Garden. I have a lot of seeds left from last year, many lettuces, the beans that never grew because they were eaten by bugs, the melon that didn’t make it, the eggplant that did, and three kinds of tomatoes. This year I’m branching out — I ordered two kinds of broccoli rabe from Seeds of Italy, as well as, gasp, five different tomatoes, some laccinato kale, an intriguing-looking egyptian beet, and a couple of chicories. I can’t say enough good things about Seeds of Italy — last year I ordered seeds from them and everything grew like mad. And tasted great. From Cook’s, I ordered two kinds of carrots, brussells sprouts, more beets, more kale, chard (two kinds) and a bunch of flowers.
Seeds are coming in the mail. Spring will come; I’ll plant my garden again, and somehow learn to live with the fact that I didn’t take Patrick’s keys away from him that last night at the Bar and Grille. I’ll grow flowers and things to eat and somehow learn to live without my only real family member. Summer will come and my garden will bloom again and I can sit under the apple trees and try to write this memoir about how Patrick and I saved one another, and hopefully by then, I’ll have some idea of how I’m going to save myself from this predicament. I can’t help but think that ordering and planting seeds can only be a big part of that salvation.