A dear friend's partner died suddenly and unexpectedly a little over a week ago.
Although I only met this person once, I could tell he was kind and caring. Little did I know he grew veggies. For how long I'm not sure, but at the memorial pepper plants were given away.
He also composed "A Garden Love Letter" back in October 2009, which was read at the memorial.
Dear pepper garden,
What a joy our journey has been. Six months ago tiny leaves elbowed through the soil and gasped for sun, and I fell smitten. Doting on you has provided me with purpose, spending hours ensuring the sun makes you warm; that your food is fine; and that your roots explore freely as you mature. By day, I sought excuses to bask with you in the summer sun; and by night, each meal consummated a celebrated union. Now, as the rains herald the chill of darker days, a stone sits in my heart. Ripe fruit makes way for molding branches. Facing imminence, seeds are sentimentally hoarded, hopeful for a future season.
Good bye and thank you dearly.
Thank you, Chris. This is exactly how I feel about growing tomatoes. I hope I do this pepper justice.