“Even a little patch like that is a case of genocide. When we planted the other things we just looked for little bare spots in between the plants that were already there. That way you’re just adding things without destroying anything. This formal patch business is against nature. Anti-evolution. If tomatoes were meant to survive they’d be able to compete in a less sheltered environment.”

The dirt patch had become a three-foot-wide circle. All the loose dirt was piled on the screen. Carlotta threw down the shovel and picked up one end of the screen. She dragged it over the depression and shook it side to side. Fine, soft dirt sifted through the screen and down onto the open patch. Dark clods rolled and bounced along the screen. Sam stood up, laying his pipe carefully beside me. He picked up the shovel, retrieved lumps of dirt, tossed them back onto the screen, and broke them with the blade. Only sticks and rocks and weeds remained. Sam threw them to the edge of the trees. Carlotta’s face softened as the dirt piled up beneath the screen.

“How deep are the seeds supposed to go?” She rubbed her arms over her face.

Sam leaned the spade on his shoulder. “Doesn’t it say on the package?”

She fished out the envelope from her pants pocket and read it carefully. “It doesn’t say.”

Sam took the packet from her. “Well, the pumpkin seeds are big and we planted them deep. Those are real little so we’ll just barely cover them, half an inch, say.”

Carlotta ripped open the packet and crouched over the soft mound of earth. Sam retrieved his pipe and squatted, tamping the tobacco with his thick fingers.

“Aram, are you sure there isn’t a top and a bottom to seeds? Shouldn’t one end be up?”

Sam squinted and looked to me, turning Carlotta’s question to me. I shrugged.

He stuck his pipe between his teeth.

“No. Just pretend you’re the wind.”

Rosen, Lance, Omar, Aram