‘Twas a bummer of a summer – much too hot for me. And the yard was quite charred where I spit my seed. But August rains came to the plains, and up sprang something new – and like a monster or a lobster, it just grew and grew! Having fun under the sun, I watered it well; it boomed and bloomed, making melons after a spell. First tiny, then shiny, but expanding all the time. I knows it’s time for prose, for I’m running out of rhyme.
Every cancer patient needs a certain element of optimism, like (perhaps) there is something about tomorrow that will be out of the ordinary and wonderful. Maybe I should say that every patient needs this – cancer or not.
Not being able to grow a decent watermelon was one of the disappointments of my childhood, so how could I even dream about having late season success – with a volunteer? I got some professional advice for my four melons and used an ancient fertilizing technique (Luke 13:8) and harvested the night of the first freeze.
