Before she even gets out of the van, she whispers: Aunt Debbie, can we can go to the garden? She says she wants to eat a flower, like she did the last time she was here (when she was only four), and the time before that (when she was but three). She finds an old straw hat and a wooden bucket and announces that she is ready to go see what there is to see in the garden.
Can I eat a flower? Watch me eat it.
Are there any peas in your garden? I love peas.
I love okra! Can I just eat it now?
Look, there's a bunch of baby yellow squashes. How many can I pick?
Green beans! I love green beans. Can I eat one now?
There's one. There's one. I see it. It's a pink potato. There's another one, and another one.
Purple? I've never heard of a purple potato. Can I get one for my brother's bucket?
Can I wiggle out another carrot? One more? One more?
Look onions! They were almost growing right out of the ground.
Oh look, it's a teeny, tiny pumpkin. It's so cute.
I found a beet! I found a beet. I love beets.
I love caterpillars.
But I love worms more.
Which do you love more?
I like to catch butterflies.
I don't mind the blackberry prickles; it's kind of like getting a shot.
Guess what Aunt Debbie? she says as she slips her five-year-old hand into mine and turns toward the waterfall path, Some day when I grow up, I want to be a farmer.