Megan's Head

A place where Megan gets off her head.

Tag: miracle

A by itself tomato

I have been in a stomping rage. It has been so bad I have even shouted at innocents, just because they were there. Granted I am still on the edge of illness, and seriously impatient about getting well, but, honestly, white people. Let me not go there.

So, I have turned to a tiny miracle in my life and I am celebrating the magnificence of the smallest tomato. A month or so ago I noticed the first fragile leaves of a tomato plant, growing by itself in our front patch of garden. I had to toss the devouring caterpillar next door because it would have eaten the whole thing, and I have managed to just let the plant grow, and watch. I hadn’t planted the seed, and can only assume it got there in bird poo, or because someone tossed the tomato from their sarmie over the wall, but the conditions seem to be perfect, and the plant gets on so well with the star Jasmine it shares the trellis with, the lavender it shares the bees with, and the blackish flowered creeping geranium it shares the soil with.

Because the plant has just arrived and flourished, I have no idea what kind of tomatoes to expect. Big, small, cherry, Italian – they could be absolutely anything. I have no control, or choice here. I am so delighted by this.

Bursts of little, spiky yellow flowers have appeared. Such a good sign of fruit to come. And today I looked beneath a starting to shrivel blossom and saw, as small as a dewdrop, the beginnings of an actual tomato.

This plant has grown defiantly. It has broken all the rules of special seeds, and tender care, and timing, and seedlings. It has extended strong stems, hairy green leaves and blossoms all over the place, showing off, taking over, announcing itself. It has a secret history that will never be known, but will never hold it back.

Thank you fierce rebel tomato plant. You restore me to my natural self, and I honour and love you.

Mr P (is a girl) and other tiny miracles in a rescued kitten

532784_10151342041945824_101132115_nWhen the kids called Big Friendly on Friday evening and he called me to help I saw two teeny faces sticking out of his fists. He is known in our street as a soft touch when it comes to animals in need. “Uncle, doesn’t your cat need a cat?” they asked. They had found the two in an abandoned lot in our road. We put them in the spare room, shut the door and I went back to cooking; we had people coming for dinner.

Later that night I went to see them (Big Friendly had gone to get cat sand and we had given them some wet cat food that we had for Chassie in case of emergencies) and they were curled up in the back of the gas heater. That’s where they were when I went to check on them the next morning. The little whiter one was feisty, the other, most beautiful one totally shy and scared. In no time my friend arrived to take possession of one of them and she went home with the beautiful and shy Finally. We flashed past the vet for a quick word, a sexing and to find out how old Finally was – 4-5 weeks!

I have been actively searching for a home for Mr P, who up until today I thought was a boy. Mr P has been holed up in the spare room and entertained with very frequent visits by me and Big Friendly, and our hearts are lost to her even though we really want her to find another home; for many reasons, one of them being this street is not good for cats, and another is that our pups are only 10 months old and still pretty demanding. Nonetheless, having her here has been entertaining, delightful and mind blowing.

Mr P is the size of my hand. She knows how to use cat sand. Her tail stands up straight when she runs to the door to greet me. Her tiny ribs are like bands of elastic in her chest, above her ever expanding round belly. Her eyes look at you and she blinks. She chats. She has a loud purr and a little, questioning meow. She chirps and whistles in pleasure and curiosity. She jumps with all legs off the ground. She rubs herself sideways along the pillow and then bliksems straight off because she has misjudged the space and length. She comes straight back for more. She holds my hand. She puts the teeniest cold paw gently on my nose. She runs when I talk. Her paws are the size of smarties. Her claws and teeth (the few she has) are like cactus thorns. She has a tiny kitty stinky bum. She is hilarious.

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