Melon Madness

Melons can be maddening to grow.  See this cute little one up there?  I found it in the grass yesterday, and after checking to make sure the little curlicue looked brown, I plucked it from its vine.

I left it at Olivia's spot at the patio table, excited for her to find it as a surprise.  She loves watermelon!

When Michael cut it open it looked like a radish inside.  Pale pink and white.  Disappointment blanketed the moment.

Did I focus on the wrong curlicue?  My farmer taught me last Summer.  You know when a watermelon is ripe when the closest curlicue to the fruit turns brown.  We followed that advice last Summer and it worked.


Meanwhile, I'm holding out hope for this big one.  I check on it daily and feel my impatience pressing close.  Amazing how those vines hold such a heavy fruit hanging over the stone wall like that.

I took this photo of a cantaloupe a few weeks ago.  It looks more like a cantaloupe now, and I check it twice daily in anticipation.  We've had two of them so far this Summer, both ripe and juicy.  Cantaloupe is ready when it releases easily from the vine.  This one has a tight grip still.

We leave for a few days vacation day after next and I want it to be ready before we go. I can't bear the thought of it rotting on the ground after watching it grow for so long.

This evening a gift rolled down to me from some hidden place.  A cantaloupe sat at the bottom of a little hill, near several other melons still growing on their vine.  This one I never saw, and I thought I knew them all.  It cheered me up considerably, and just about made up for yesterday's watermelon disappointment.

One of those moments of synchronicity it seemed: "sorry about the watermelon, would you accept this cantaloupe instead?"

(Nobody in particular was saying that, by the way).