“I love this fence you are building.” she said as they quietly sat enjoying the evening breeze by the pool. An icy mojito¹ in each of their hands.

“Thank you” he said. But as he stared at the freshly picked mint in his glass, he knew he was secretly betraying her. For all his thoughts had turned to growing vegetables. He knew it not as a fence but as a trellis.

“I shall grow her pearls²” he thought later that evening, as he quietly slipped cucumber seedlings into her bed of ornamental grasses.