Cantaloupe Heaven

At some point this season I experienced what I considered the "perfect" cantaloup.  It was deeeeeelicious.  Wekesa and I purchased it from an organic Black farmer from South GA who said he was born as a child onto hundreds of acres.  This probably had it taste even better.

I decided to follow my heart and just plant it.  Many voices resonated in my head.  First, the "you're not a Brown voice." Growing up, it was the Browns who grew great watermelons.  Almost like what I have had our Malian instructor Baba Maiga teach us about our Songhoy culture:  certain families were known and good at fishing, farming, music, etc.  In fact Maiga would never sing when he played a guitar in public, as he was not known for that, and in his culture he should bring attention, fame and funds to the family that was.

Anyway, I digress.  I decided that watermellons and other mellons took the greatest, richest soil and expertise that the Browns had, and that I did not.

"You don't get enough sun."  I don't.  I only get about 4.5 hours at most when a minimum of 6 is probably needed for mellons and any other fruit-setting and root vegetables.

Still, the voice of "you like this mellon; if you could produce another like this one, wouldn't you love it and won't your children love them for generations to come" won out.

OK, and look at it -- Just doing what seeds do when we life aligns -- living out its destiny.

I will keep you posted, and I am claiming that I will take a picture of a beautiful delicious cantaloupe sliced and ready to eat.