Late one night in June, around midnight in fact, when most couples were asleep in bed, oblivious to the fact that each was breathing open-mouthed into the face of the other, Daniel stood at the door tying on his shoes.
"Where are you going, Babe?" I asked.
"I have to get up to the roof with these pepper plants before they die," he said. "My friend, the gardener, dropped them off this morning as a gift."
Sure enough, in his hand was a plastic bag holding several wilted seedlings, barely hanging on to life.
The gardener and my husband have become friends, bonded by their shared love of things that grow. The gardener visits our roof from time to time, and when he does, the two of them stand like mandarin-speaking Hobbits, talking about sunlight and water, spacing and soil.
It's a beautiful thing to see.
Which is why Daniel couldn't let his friend's seedlings die. Even though it was midnight, he was determined to put those pepper plants in the ground.
And a month later, we have these! They were absolutely delicious sprinkled on our enchiladas this weekend! Good job, Babe. Good job.