My Predilections

Img_0001_2  Last summer I read a book about Tuscany, found a source for Italian garlic, ordered some, planted the separated cloves seen in the basket, and forgot about them until today, when I saw what looked like rows of Spring onions out in the neglected herb garden.

The tall green garlic stalks were bent from the heavy rain.

I want to dig them up, but it’s too soon.

Just as when I cook rice and peek into the pot too early, or mail off a writing submission before it has fully ripened, I know I will dig up at least one of those garlic plants tomorrow morning, sure as the world.

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