My mother grew up in New York City never learning how to drive a car before she left. When she moved to Frederick, MD for college, she fell in love with the country life. She loved gardening and flowers. Her gardens were quite unorganized and messy compared with my father’s orderly rows of onions and cantaloupe.
When the daffodils came in, she would send my niece off with scissors and a grocery bag to gather them from the neighbor’s lane. I remember walking in the kitchen and the table covered with mounds of daffodils. My mother would put vases of these flowers all over the house. She was as reliable as crocuses in the spring.
I’m not a gardener, but today I picked two very beautiful tomatoes.
I planted these plants, I watered these plants. These are the first tomatoes I have ever grown.
I really looked them over.
A few bug bites, the skin calico green and red around the stem.
I had no technical training, never gardened before, and I grew two tomatoes.
There are more coming.
Before I eat this tomato, I’m going to give it a kiss.
My tomato crop last year was a disgrace. I’m not sure what went wrong.
Did I hoe poorly? Was the fertilizer that my dog provided too strong?
Did ten stinkbugs sucking on each tomato have an adverse effect?
My eight perfectly planted plants produced seven deformed cherry sized tomatoes with above average flavor.
I am planting again tomorrow. I’m going to water perfectly all summer.
I’ve got my dog on an organic diet–Major Improvement in size and smell, and this makes us both happy.