It used to be that picking tomatoes wasn’t too bad of a chore. One could think about future gardening seasons while picking the fruits of this years labor. Not so this season. With two crazy individuals presently dueling to see who’s the craziest, I prefer to think about the past. While picking uncooked spaghetti sauce yesterday, my thoughts went back to earlier times when a neighbor lady asked for gardening advise.
We had a garden in the community garden plots in Watertown. Plot sizes were 20 by 30 feet so one had to make good use of the ground. We did manage to get a second and sometimes a third plot if there were leftovers that no one wanted. Everyone around always complimented us on how good everything was growing, especially our tomatoes. The neighbors who lived next door to us had their garden in their back yard, and if I must say so myself, it left a little bit to be desired.
One season, her garden was growing beautifully but the darned tomatoes wouldn’t ripen. There’s a limit to the number of uses for green tomatoes and she was getting tired of the whole situation. One afternoon as I was getting home from work she comes over and says, “Your tomatoes are ripe, mine are green. What can I do about it?”
Feeling a little cantankerous I replied, “Well, it may sound absurd but here’s what to do. Tonight there’s no moon. After dark go out to your garden and take all of your clothes off. Tomatoes can see in the dark and they’ll be embarrassed and blush. In the morning they’ll all be red, you’ll see.”
The next morning was a Saturday and as I was sitting on the deck having a cup of coffee, she came out of the house and headed for her garden. I went over to the fence and said, “Did you do as I suggested?”
“I said, well, what the heck and did it,” she replied.
“How did it work?” I asked.
“So-so,” she answers, “The tomatoes are still green but it looks like all the cucumbers are four inches longer!”
The first liar doesn’t have a chance.
Keep your fork