I go out in the rain to cut fresh marjoram for a tomato salad, and find the wild arugula I’ve forgotten is growing there, between the patio and the green café table where I find a rare patch of shade for writing in the summer. The salad is welcome, with Greek herbs and crumbled feta and pepper, lemon-scented olive oil. Even the tomatoes aren’t bad, out of season—imperfections disguised.
image: Christie B. Cochrell, Arugula
.jpg)
No comments:
Post a Comment