The tomatoes remain unripe, thus hide in rouging blurs beneath precise leaves on my balcony. This onion was gifted me by a young man named Thomas who waters the garden at the Vancouver Film Studios. I don’t eat onions but I photographed it and chopped it up for another. Apples. From my uncle’s garden. He insisted I take a whole plastic bag full for my apple & blackberry pies and to feed the compost if I can’t use all of them before they wrinkle. Quickly, they sepia as I slice them into a shell. I understand gardens as never before.