“Here, hold this for a sec,” I hand the watering wand to Gerry and step into the garden toward the spot where I planted radishes a few weeks ago.
”You’re dreaming,” he says as I bend and move leaves aside to get a better look.
The bright red radish I pull from the ground may be a dream in terms of something I held in my mind when I tucked the first tiny seeds in a trench, but it’s very real.
I step out of the garden and hold the radish under spraying water to rinse off dirt then reach for my phone to capture an image to mark the occasion. The first radish of the season. The first food the garden has gifted us with.
After checking that I got a reasonable photo, I offer the orb to Gerry, giving him the honour of enjoying the first one. There will be many more.
Now, the winter that once seemed endless has officially passed. It is a new season—arguably, the best season. A season in which hope manifests in red radishes.