It seemed too perfect to let go, so I did the whole thing--saved the seeds and the juice around the seeds, put it all in a jar with water and let it sit while Rich and I went to Des Moines. The notion is that the liquid will ferment and the fermentation will break down the coating that prevents the seeds from sprouting inside the tomato. Some of the seeds were so eager to grow that they sprouted while we were gone, but not all.
When I look at these tiny seeds about the size of an "o,"
and think that a tomato plant that can cover my 12'x12' garden and enough tomatoes to make BLTs for weeks for Rich and me and all our neighbors, I am astonished--all of that from one tiny, sort of furry, seed.
I am eager to plant these seeds next summer and see what grows.
But in the meantime, I'm thinking of seeds, saving seeds, stories, seeds of stories. The idea for Charlotte's Web was partly due to a sick pig. I think Lois Lowry's The Giver began with the seed of a family member with a failing memory.
The Chiru of High Tibet began with the seed of a radio program and grew into a trip to Tibet, a book, a blog.
While we were in DesMoines we went out for a stroll. Of course we had to walk along the river.
But there was also the mystery of the blue shoes, next to a garbage can, just off Locust Street.
Who took them off? What were they traded for? And why? They aren't worn out. I want to know about their owner. Did she buy them on a whim at one of the second hand stores on Locust Street? Did someone buy them for her? Was it a kid, a ten year old who wanted to be grown up, but actually hated the clompy feel of those shoes? These are more than just shoes. They are seeds. Seeds for someone to grow a story. Help yourself.
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