Read by Matilda Longbottom

Every July, my garden transforms from a neat little patch of soil into a glorious, sun-drenched jungle. It’s as if my plants throw a party the moment I turn my back—vines cartwheel over the trellis, sunflowers grow tall enough to apply for their own zip codes, and tomatoes ripen faster than I can say “caprese.”

And I absolutely love it.

There’s something about July that feels like the garden is finally showing off. All the quiet patience of Spring suddenly bursts into loud, leafy applause. My cucumbers are sneaky little show-offs too—hiding under leaves like spies. I swear they double in size overnight. One morning, I found one the size of a loaf of bread. I named it Carla. Carla now lives in the fridge and is destined for many salads.

I start every morning in my sandals, coffee in one hand, hose in the other, talking to my plants like old friends. “Looking good, Gertrude,” I tell the zinnias. “A little less drama, please,” I whisper to the dahlias, which constantly feud with the lavender over who gets the most bees.

The bees, for their part, don’t care. They’re just here for the buffet.

Last week, I caught myself full-on dancing in the garden to an ABBA song blaring from my Bluetooth speaker. A butterfly landed on my hat and didn’t even flinch when I hit the high note in Dancing Queen. If that’s not a vote of confidence, I don’t know what is.

The best part about July gardening, though? The abundance. I have more zucchini than I know what to do with, which means every neighbor, friend, and unsuspecting visitor leaves my house with a “surprise squash” tucked under their arm. My record is slipping two into someone’s open car window during a dinner party.

They still don’t know it was me.

Honestly, July is when I feel most like myself. A little sunburned, a little sweaty, dirt permanently wedged under my fingernails, and grinning like a kid in a sprinkler. My garden may not be perfect — a little wild around the edges, kind of like me — but it’s mine, and it’s alive, and it’s happy.

So am I.

Here’s to July: the month where everything grows a little too fast, smells like basil, and tastes like sunshine. ❖