What grows there?

Basil is growing in tight green clusters at my house under the lights. There will be pesto this summer, and Charentais melons, Brandywine tomatoes and my heart will grow rampant as zucchini. Is this sentimental? How without being sentimental do I express the yearning that fills me when I look out on the western horizon as the sun sets over the trees? It’s like a rumbling thunder and I long to break into rain.