I’ve always loved seed catalogues. When they arrived to my parents’ house in the wintertime, and I was a little girl, I would sit with them day after day, circling and starring and initialing the roses I thought we should plant (I always circled one called “Peace”) and the novel fruits and hollyhocks. And now I got the first seed catalogue at my first house. And my mind is swirling with tomatos and cucumbers and carrots and terraces and trellises and sketched and resketched garden plans. And I love seed catalogues more than ever.