New Life in the Garden

Ladies and gentlemen we have life. If I could, I'd be standing before you wearing a white lab coat and pushing my open palms into the air in front of me as if willing Frankenstein's monster himself off the gardening table. Something is growing in the garden. I planted seeds and I've watered and yes, folks, things are sprouting. I'm so proud. I've honestly never grown anything from seed before. (Besides that awful seed in a Styrofoam cup project in middle school, which I later neglected and it got all moldy and died.)

I have radishes, people. Real radishes. Well, the beginnings of radishes. Also the beginning of Cherokee Purple tomatoes, Romaine, and Spinach. All are tiny little buds finding their way to the sun. Should I talk to them? Name them? My father says you should never name anything you're going to eat. My cousin told me it's OK to name something you're going to eat as long as you give it the name of some despot or infamous historical figure. I think that would literally leave a bad taste in my mouth. These are just plain ol' radishes, happy and strong.