Tuesday, June 24, 2008


I know my friend, that you have a song.

You just had such a wonderful dinner with the fresh produce you picked up at the farmer's market. All the ingredients were so fresh, so full of tastes, you didn't have to do much, other than let them do what they do best, being themselves. Now you are full with joy, and would like to share your secret recipe.

You just had the best peach you ever had in your life. How can a peach this year can beat the best peach last summer, I don't understand the mystery either. But you are convinced that you just had the sweetest, juiciest peach in your life. You want to capture this memory. You want to take a photo. You want to describe the sensation. You want to share that perfect peach.

You happened to pick up the piece of the bread, that would accompany your humble breakfast. You were starting another same day, same morning, but that piece of bread was gently sweet, telling you that it is okay to have another ordinary day, and that many days in our lives are like the piece of bread - it might be simple, ordinary but gently sweet.

Your hydrangea is tiny. You picked it up at the master gardener's plant sale a year ago. It didn't even bloom last year. It was more like a stick in the ground with a few, pitiful leaves. Now look at your hydrangea. It now has five branches with blossoms. Each blossom head is full with small flower buds, which open to show the tiny pink petals. You adore your hydrangea. Somehow your tiny hydrangea is 100 times prettier than your neighbor's which is 10 times bigger. How does this happen? How an affection for a plant can warp your standard for beauty?

Tell me your stories. Send me your songs. I would like to be a keeper of your memories.

GrownInFrederick@gmail.com, that is me and Shannon. Please add "Grown in Frederick:" in subject so that we can make sure your song safely lands in the inbox.

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