Read by Matilda Longbottom

In the heart of deep Winter in northern California, I found myself signing away on the paperwork for my dream home—a quaint bungalow I had longed for. As rain pelted down outside, I was too preoccupied with the legalities to notice the quarter-acre of land beyond the back door, a mishmash of mud and frost-bitten vegetation. It wasn’t until later that I glimpsed a tangle of wires and posts in the corner, assuming them to be some form of backup generator. Little did I know, they were the infrastructure for an unexpected vineyard.

Fast-forward to May, and my dormant quarter-acre had erupted into a jungle of growth. Clueless about gardening, I found myself facing a bewildering array of blossoms, vines, and fruits—far beyond my bonsai skills back in Philadelphia. Desperate for help, I turned to a local gardener named Domingue, despite the language barrier.

Over the following decade, I embarked on a crash course in viticulture and horticulture, transforming from a novice to a seasoned gardener. My once-barren land now yields a bounty from April to November, and I’ve become a familiar sight in the neighborhood, armed with surplus zucchinis in August.

Though I may never match Domingue’s intuitive understanding of plants, I’ve learned to communicate my gardening woes effectively. And while I still chuckle at my initial bewilderment, I now face the Winter months with anticipation, eagerly planning for the explosion of growth in Spring.

Perhaps this year, amidst the flowers and edibles, I’ll plant a little wisteria—for nostalgia’s sake. ❖

About the Author: Marsh Rose is a psychotherapist and freelance writer based in Sonoma County, California. Her first-person short stories have been published in Salon.com, Cosmopolitan, the San Francisco Chronicle, and other publications. When not tending to her garden, she can be found exploring the vibrant local farmers markets or enjoying a glass of wine in the heart of California wine country.