We planted onions in April.

Yes, April. Before you say anything, I know.

He spotted them in the shop, asked if we could plant them, and honestly, what was I supposed to say? Late variety, near enough, in they went.
This morning he came to find me. Sprouts.

Actual sprouts. The look on that kid’s face over a few green shoots poking out of the dirt was absolutely worth the gardening shame.

Autumn. Curries. Job done.

I don’t know why we wait for the right moment to start things. The optimal window closes, we shrug, and then the onions sit in the kitchen going soft until someone throws them out.

He didn’t know there was a wrong time. So he just started.

Honestly? Best gardening advice I’ve had in years.