I worked in the garden for about an hour and a half last night pulling weeds and mulching part of a bed to cool the soil for fall crop planting (Is this foolishly soon? Highs are still in the 90's). It was an awesome work stint, but I needed to get back to work inside, plus it was getting dark and mosquitoes were coming out. I glanced over the tomatoes to see if I should grab any ripe ones before the birds had their way with them. I spotted a huge, pink brandywine, as perfect at first glance as any tomato could be in my endorphine-from-weeding high:
That perfect appearance would, more likely than not, be shattered by bird pecks, a rot spot, or a split on the not-yet-visible underside. I slowly slid my fingers underneath the weighty beauty and she was smooth! I twisted her off the vine and turned her over just to make sure my fingers didn't miss something. Maybe the birds had been repelled by my ripening cayennes, or maybe they were satisfied with the rotten tomatoes I had been tossing in the paths and over the fence. Whatever it was, a beautiful brandywine tomato provided a euphoric conclusion to my evening in the garden:
That perfect appearance would, more likely than not, be shattered by bird pecks, a rot spot, or a split on the not-yet-visible underside. I slowly slid my fingers underneath the weighty beauty and she was smooth! I twisted her off the vine and turned her over just to make sure my fingers didn't miss something. Maybe the birds had been repelled by my ripening cayennes, or maybe they were satisfied with the rotten tomatoes I had been tossing in the paths and over the fence. Whatever it was, a beautiful brandywine tomato provided a euphoric conclusion to my evening in the garden:
Now I just need to figure out what I'm going to do with her.
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