Wednesday, August 6, 2008
It takes longer to grow a tomato than it does to grow a baby.
This never occurred to me before this morning. After our snowy winter, floody spring, and cold summer, I'm desperate for a tomato. Or I thought I was. We are getting about one a day from our garden now. There are nearly 50 thriving plants in the yard. One a day isn't cutting it. I want to see a bushel basket. I want to be up to my elbows in tomato juice. I want a bloody mary. We started our plants from seed in February. That certainly seemed like a leap of faith. It's difficult to choose seeds, place the order, buy the soil, hang the lights, and be convinced that it may still be snowing in June. We started with nearly 100 plants. Half grew to bear fruit. Not bad considering what we've been up against. Staring at the plants does not make the fruit ripen any faster. I should probably write it all up in a scientific study and apply for a grant. I have the research. Yesterday, we ate our tomato in a breakfast burrito with some of those righteous rainbow eggs and extra Tabasco. Today, I may eat our tomato by myself in the yard. Like an apple.