I had discouraged this. (Out of sync). Seeds from a farmer’s market watermelon surely didn’t want to grow sown in August. More than 40 days over 100 degrees in the last weeks when all experts said we were four months too late.
Unless your goal is self-amusement, arguing with children is futile, I hear. So I didn’t argue.
Now, sweet pale blossom, will you fruit?
You could…
” What’s the black spots called, mama?”
Those are the seeds.
“Watermelon doesn’t have black seeds! That’s crazy!”
It’s melon season here. The kids are having melon from a neighboring farm that had them at the farmer’s market, priced with Sharpe for $5 or $6.
“I want to plant them!”
Melon season is harvesting now, love. The seeds like to be planted in the spring.
“They won’t mind. I’ll take good care of them.”
They might not grow, honey.
“They will!”
The watermelon sprouts beside the wilting radishes.
The lines were drawn and the advancing vines paid no heed.
Sweet potatoes marching on pumpkin. Watermelon winding through to climb abandoned tomato cages.
A butterfly weed returned to hearty trumpets.
The okra is starting to synchronise. We may soon see more than one per plant per harvest.
And a zinnia has shouldered its way through the green beans to feel the sun on its head.
plumdirt 