In her capsicum grove, bent over but bold
My grandma is digging over vegie beds old
She’s pulling out weeds with her gnarly hand
Moves border rock edges, spreads over some sand.
Then hobbles along to a plot bearing fruit
Sings a soft song (and gives an occasional bum toot).
Capsicums are ready, inviting to be picked
Lots of plump fruit, yes fruit if you’re strict.
Grandma’s a dab hand in the kitchen with pan
She thinks up a recipe for a dinner she planned.
She turns each fruit over, carefully, intact
Looks for each with a fourth bump it lacked.
A wise old woman, she knew it was true
The capsicum recipe called for male fruit too.
See, males have just three bumps and no seeds inside
While lady fruit have four bumps, two and two wide.
The three bump boys were perfect to cook
The sweeter girls raw for salads with chook.
So Grandma went about harvesting the boys
The girls she left growing (her bottom making noise).
just a bit of whimsy, memory if you will
although I’d not be surprised
if you think I am a dill.