The Vine
The other day I planted some melon in the garden. The plant was small. I took the word of the local greenhouse that it was melon, and looked forward to the time, not many days hence, when I could lay a big slice on my oversized plate, and heap a goodly scoop of rich ice cream along side of it. Such things are what dreams of ancients are made of. I watered, I weeded, I dreamed, I waited. As the days passed, my dreams wilted along with the plant. I was befuddled, for enough water she had....