I Give Up

There is nothing quite like a homegrown tomato. A fresh-out-of-the-garden tomato makes a great sandwich, sliced with ample mayonnaise. Heavens, I can eat a couple pounds of tomatoes right off the vine.

I have tried many years to plant a few tomato plants. The usual result is a few small fruit, even from a half dozen plants. Still, there's a sense of accomplishment attached to saying, "I grew this."

Last year I planted four tomato plants, in two containers. I decided that, if I only used potting soil, surely I'd have good dirt, cutting out one of the reasons for crop failure.

It worked. The containers had a water reservoir built in, and as long as I filled the reservoir every week or so, watering was no problem. With good soil and adequate moisture, how could I grow wrong? The plants began to put forth green tomatoes.

I remembered that birds often pierce tomatoes, once they are an attractive red. They may only peck a tomato once or twice. Still, the fruit is ruined, so I strung protective netting over the plants.

Then I went on vacation. Why in the world did I choose to do such a crazy thing?

When we returned from ten days of vacation, I couldn't wait to look at my tomato plants. Surely by now the green tomatoes had grown and reddened. No, what I found were four dead tomato plants. I also found a few fat green caterpillars.

Somehow the knowledge that these caterpillars would soon become beautiful butterflies brought no joy.

Ecclesiastes 3:1 says that for everything there is a season. This is my "buy tomatoes at the farmers market" season.