The olive trees begin to cry and their tears are round and green. A green rain. I like to watch the trees rain green.

One summer, a tomato plant appeared in Grandma's garden that I had never seen before.

The most suitable tomatoes for growing indoors are the bush tomatoes that do not need a stake because they do not exceed 30 cm in height.

When I was little, I used to spend a lot of time hiding among the tomato trees. But at that time I never thought about planting tomatoes in pots.

The bottles stood in rows, on the lowest shelf of the sideboard, to keep them out of the light during the hot southern summers. Sometimes in the afternoon, I would open the window and the sun's low rays would hit them, creating pinkish-purple spots on the stone floor.

It’s not summer without the scented whiff from a basil plant as you walk past it. It can’t be summer without a handful of its leaves to liven up a green salad, or sprinkled on top a fresh and inviting Caprese, or again crushed with garlic in a creamy bright green pesto. That’s basil: once you smell it, you’ll never forget it.  

I like both the smells of the countryside and those of the city, but the countryside smells sweet, and cities could do with a bit more countryside.

Even when she was old, my grandma grew her vegetables next to her house.  She would put them in pots because it was easier and because having a garden was hard on her back.

My grandma would say that if you want something done, it is best to do it yourself and I did my best to find as many varieties of veg to plant on my balcony. I advise anybody living in a condo to give it a try, I find it extremely gratifying.

My grandma must have passed something poetic on to me because I can’t help looking at a plant without a feeling a sense of poetry. So I would like to write a thought for those little plants growing on my balcony.