This is Henry. I met him at the Memphis Farmer's Market. My daughter Sarah and I sell bread there on Saturday mornings.

Henry sat with me in the kitchen last night while I was cooking supper. My husband, Billy, was all wrapped up in the marathon tennis game going on at Wimbledon.

Can I tell you how much I LOVE Henry? He's so easy to talk to. We sat (he sat, I chopped vegetables) and talked.

He cracked up when I told him how

I bought my new fish Bobo the very afternoon I arrived home after spending 3 days in New York with my daughter Mamie and her husband, Sam.

.

Mamie and I had gone shopping at her favorite store– Rudy Volcano's–It's where she bought all of our Christmas presents this year. She gave me a hand carved gourd.

check it out

www.rudyvolcano.com

I showed the gourd to Henry last night, too. It's from Peru or maybe Ecuador.

Rudy Volcano and Mamie have gotten to be friends because of all her shopping expeditions, so I was looking forward to meeting him when I was in New York and looking forward to doing a little expeditioning myself. Oh phooey! He was on vacation.

We were standing in front of the cash register/display case area when I noticed a ceramic pot on the floor about the size of a spherical black diamond watermelon if there is such a thing–white on the inside and geometric patterns of blue, orange and maybe a little green on the outside and lo and behold there were goldfish swimming around in it–happy and healthy.

Oh my God! It's just like the one Mamie gave me for Christmas, the one that broke to bits during the plane ride down from New York, the one that she spent all one afternoon gluing back together! I'm putting two and two together, it came from Rudy's!

"Dangit," I said to myself, "I want a fish." I couldn't use my pot because of the cracks and leaks. but...

I got off the plane and made my way to Billy who was waiting for me at the gate with open arms.

"How was your trip?" he asked.

"It was wonderful. I'll tell you all about it on our way to PetCo."

"Petco???"

Here is Henry talking to Bobo my new fish.

Sometimes it's hard to tell about Henry. I worry about him.

He lives much of his life vicariously. He doesn't have many friends and he's terrified of traveling.

"I prefer the garden," he says.

I mean as hot as it was yesterday, he stayed out in that heat all day until I MADE him come in.

"Henry," I told him, " you're not going to meet other vegetables standing out here in the compost heap."

He looked down all sad, then promptly changed the subject.

* * *

I felt kinda' bad about fussing at Henry. I honestly don't care one way or the other whether he has a boyfriend or not. I just want him to be happy.

Well, you won't believe it. The next morning I woke up early. I was making my coffee when I heard voices quietly talking. I peeked around the refrigerator and there they were, Henry and the gourd, chatting.

I could just barely make out what Henry was saying but it sounded a bit like this:

"So, you were grown in Guatemala and hand carved in Peru. How long you been in the

States?"

At last. A romance seems to be–pardon the phrase–– blossoming.