It’s probably better if I rip out the old plants, she said to herself and stabbed the trowel into the round black planter. The soil was still heavy from the rain and resisted. She grabbed one of the plants by the leaves and could feel the muscles in her arms tightening until suddenly, dirt flew across the container and onto her clothes. The bare white of the severed root lit up in the dark earth. It took quite some prodding and pulling to get the deepest parts out. She wanted to give the new plants a fresh start. Happy plants are tasty plants, she joked to herself. The soil in the second planter was looser, and the roots showed less resistance. She quickly pulled them out one by one and flattened the surface with her hands. Then she lifted her gaze. The new plants were waiting in seedling trays. At the nursery, she had selected varieties with names that rang well. Quinaut. Albion. Probably French, with a sophisticated sweetness. How tiny they were. And yet, some of them already showed their petite white flowers, others early fruits. She pulled out the plastic label from behind one of the seedlings and read the instructions: Plant in rows 46” apart. Obviously, those growers thought of a sizable field. How to map this into small round containers? Later, when the sun set, she looked at the planted seedlings through the window and felt content with her answer: simply allow space to grow.

20 Aug This entry was published on August 20, 2025 at 10:45 am. It’s filed under ENGLISH ENTRIES, Silicon Valley at its best and tagged food, Palo Alto, Silicon Valley. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.