Wake up in a thoroughly pissy mood and take it out on your husband. Eventually pull yourself together to avoid a fight and go out to do errands. Drop trash that's been sitting in your garage for 6 months off at the dump. Buy batteries. Eat half a hamburger and some fries that you shouldn't and finally make your way to the nursery where on a whim you buy vegetables to plant in your garden. Watermelon. Cantaloupe. Strawberries. Green peppers. Cucumbers. Yellow squash. And tomatoes. Two kind of tomatoes. You really like tomatoes.
Go home and dig in your garden, planting vegetables as your son tries to unplant them. Plant them in neat little rows, knowing that by the middle of the summer they will all have become vegetable stew mixing together in a complicated tangle of vines. But be optimistic anyway. Maybe this year your tomatoes will thrive, unlike in past years when only your cukes have come through. You never even got one watermelon. But you had enough cukes to fill ten pickle jars.
Water them down and hope for the best. Get sunburned a little on your arms. Welcome the sun.
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