Mistress Mary, Quite Contrary, How Does Your Garden Grow?
I have a sneaking suspicion that this is interesting to nobody but us. I mean, it’s not exactly big news that seeds grow if you stick them into the ground, water them, and let the sun get on them.
I guess you’d have to have experienced a Ferrara winter. You’d have to have lived through month after gray month, week after foggy, sunless week. You’d have to have been reduced to weeping by the evening weather report.
I mean, I think it’s no accident that the big culinary items here are bread so dry and lifeless that you could easily confuse it with particle board; a kind of sausage you have to boil for five hours in order to make it edible; and eel (need I say more?). These people are used to hardship and deprivation.
That’s why the sight of Growing Things inspires such raptures—and such depths of despair when things don’t work out. (The roses … ah, the sadness of the roses.)