I've mentioned once or twice that I'm an avid gardener. Green beans, tomatoes, cucumbers - if it's edible and suited to my climate, I can probably grow it. Of all the things that I grow each year, cantaloupes are my favorite.
Cantaloupes are incredibly easy to grow. All you really need is good soil and a hot summer. They don't require a lot of care. I let mine run wild over the garden patch, tendrils curling and reaching every which way. A little water now and then. Pull the occasional weed. Nothing to it.
Knowing when to harvest a cantaloupe is trickier. If you pull a cantaloupe too soon, the fruit will lack sweetness. If you wait too long, the melons will crack in the heat or rot if the ground is damp. Timing is everything. Timing and technique.
To check if a cantaloupe is ripe, you pick it up and turn it. Be gentle. Don't pull. If it's ready, it will let go of the vine. If it doesn't separate, put it down and wait another day.
Since this is not a gardening blog, you're probably wondering if I have a punch line or point. Uh, maybe? I'll let you decide.
Frankly, this past year has been a little rough. I'd like to think that I grew, but I just feel older. I'd like to think that I learned something, but "don't fuck with my meds" doesn't seem all that profound. It's New Year's Eve, the night for brave, new intentions and fresh starts, and my OCD is shrieking for some sort of plan, and, and . . .
Cantaloupe. It ripens in its own time. It lets go when its ready. It cannot be rushed to yield its fruit . . .
Can I resolve to be a cantaloupe?