by Emilie West

Created on: November 23, 2009   Last Updated: December 03, 2009

I became quite restless when, years and years ago, our elementary school teacher informed us about an upcoming project; keeping a garden for school. My excitement was about as big as my talent for gardening, so I knew beforehand that no good would come from this assignment; neither were my veggies every going to be able to be eaten; they would probably be dead by then.

On such a thursday, we went to the garden where we were all assigned a small, rectangular patch of ground. Looking at the muddy soil, I was extremely disappointed; somewhere I had hoped to find a garden with flowers and other things I could simply water before leaving again.

An hour into the project, my mood had gotten even worse. My impeccable hand-eye-coordination had caused me to trip and fall and my face was covered in mud. I was cold and desperately longed for a hot bath, but first, I had to stuff my soil with seeds. Being so busy with stuffing and complaining, I didn't notice who suddenly occupied the patch next to mine.

Back then, I didn't know what love was. Honestly, I still don't have a clue.
I had crushes, then and now, on the boys who were sweet and gave me a bite of their lunch when I wanted one. I thought that was what love meant. But never before had I felt like giving someone else a bite of MY lunch, until now.

He started putting seeds into the ground and when he caught my eye, he smiled. In fact, he laughed out loud. I took this as a sign, a reciprocation of my love for him, even though he was in fact laughing at my muddy, brown face, but I asked, merely to break the silence, "Do you like gardening?"
He seemed very busy padding the ground where he just finished putting the seeds, so I went on, "I hate it, really. I don't understand how other people can enjoy it so much. It's smelly and stupid..."
When he looked at me this time, first, he laughed again. Then he said, "My dad is a gardener". I felt my face reddening. "And so is my mom. They met in a garden. They me their story all the time".

He started telling me their story, at which point I would rather have fallen into the mud again. He told me how his parents were working in a garden together. They had never seen each other before and coincidentally, their paths hadn't crossed yet that day. It was getting late and they had to plant one last thing. When they were planting it together, their eyes met, and it was love at first sight.
From that point on, their love grew and grew, and so did the plant. And now, every year they go

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