By midmorning a handwritten card hung from the greenhouse latch: tours now last until lunch, and nobody is to hurry the guide.
We asked at the seed kiosk. A woman with a paper bag of basil said she had already been around twice and still had not finished saying hello. "Fern stops at every pot," she told us. "If you skip a tomato, she just sits until you go back."
The gardener, who introduced Fern as the new afternoon guide, kept his voice low among the vines. "She sets the pace," he said. "We used to rush the aisles before noon. Now the tomatoes have time to blush properly, and the guests remember their names."
By evening the cherry plants had leaned a little toward the path, as if waiting for tomorrow's round of greetings. A boy came back after supper with a second hello for the shy one in the corner. Fern was already asleep under the watering can, which the gardener took as a five-star review.