For three summers the tomatoes did nothing. This year they did everything, all at once.
The tomatoes finally won
Three summers of failure and then, suddenly, more tomatoes than four people could reasonably eat.
Three summers of failure and then, suddenly, more tomatoes than four people could reasonably eat.
For three summers the tomatoes did nothing. This year they did everything, all at once.
What began as a single raised bed became, over a strange quiet year, a small farm.
A small ceremony under the plum tree, forty guests, and rain that held off until exactly the right moment.
One hundred and eight bells at midnight, a very cold temple courtyard, and the best bowl of soba any of us can remember.
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