It has been so long. Hasn't it? I have been away from the blog for a couple of weeks, for a humbling concoction of reasons and excuses that have to do as much with x-rays and casts as they do with avoidance. Not to mention torrential downpours that went on for so long that I thought that my husband would one day arrive home from work and announce that God had told him to build an ark. But just in time the sun has arrived, along with the Texas that I am familiar with (hot and humid), and look what I found in my garden today!! Just look at those tomatoes.
Before we get into what a wonderful gardener I am, and what a generally lucky and blessed person I am, and how much people like me and ask me to tell them funny stories, and how when I saw these tomatoes growing on the tomato plants that I grew myself with no help from anyone I felt like I no longer had deep, deep lines running around my mouth like Fred Flinstone, or how the skin around my stomach that sagged a little from birthing two enormous children suddenly felt taut, or how I realized after staring at those greent tomatoes for just a few seconds that I do have an extremely green thumb after all. Before we get into all that, let's just go back for a moment, to the 90% of the vegetables I planted in those deliciously humble veggie bed boxes my husband so graciously gave up his entire weekend and built for me, the zucchini and the squash and the carrots and the radishes and the onions. Remember those? Let's just get right to the point: they're all dead. Dead. Everything that I thought might have gone wrong - not enough sunlight, sub-prime soil, lack of fertilizer, too much effing rain, all those things conspired together, I believe, to create the perfect storm of infertility, and, under the strain of all those clouds and all that moisture, my weakened little plants just threw up their stems and said, okay, we give up. We're tired and we don't want to do this anymore. I took them at their word.
The cantaloupes and the tomatoes, however, are doing quite well.
Now, let's take a look at these little green tomatoes! Look how robust, how tight their skins are, wrapped around whatever soon-to-be-juicy insides are swirling up and down inside there. Since they are grape tomatoes, I had my little two-year-old gently put his chubby little hand next to one so you could see their actual size:
But still! Even if they are very small, they look full of life, and I grew them, and I'm sure they will taste delicious in a side salad next to my main course in an upcoming meal. I am just sure that they will.
In my last post, the last sorry post before my short break, I mentioned to you how depressing, how desperate it is for me to stick with something for a long stretch of time without receiving any feedback that it's going well (I'm a recovering actress, remember). These tomatoes, however, these little blooms that make me feel both young and fruitful and old and wise simultaneously, have done just that. It's like the universe just gave me a standing ovation.
And, to you, Mother Nature, I take my bow.