the last bite

BLACK THUMB GARDEN

WRITTEN BY AMANDA HAWKINS
ARTWORK BY ROSE DELLA ROSA

last bite

Go ahead, let the garden go.
Watch and wait and don’t pull a damn thing.

Let the mallow sprout on the path,
in the bark beneath the citrus,
and in the raised beds where there should be beets.

Note the nuance of that cheeseweed —
how it tastes best young
and cooked with wild mushrooms.

Let the grass grow tall as it wants.
Learn to identify the difference

between a foxtail and a stalk of rogue wheat.
Baby that wheat.

What you are doing here is learning:
When does the parsley’s prime pass?

When does the cabbage white come back
and ravage the kale?

When does the cilantro bolt and make its own seed
and ripen into coriander,
tender and popping?

Let the invasive berries shoot and sprawl.
Let the jay-planted pecan take root.

Let the sweet small grasses grow
thick and untended.

No, not untended, only uncut.
This work requires
absolute attention:

What grows in what way and when?

And how much would you even change?

SCROLL TO TOP