Summer Lovin'

The summer's first harvest is always a memorable time for me - basically because I'm always amazed that I was able to get anything to grow at all. I may have pretty mixed results with most of the stuff I plant, but for some reason tomatoes are my friends. While this year hasn't been the year of jubilee of years past, the tomatoes have still done me proud.

The kids have been watching the greenish orbs with growing impatience for a week or two as they slowly blushed with orange then, one-by-one, presto-chango, instantly transformed into tender plump and deeply red beauties. My would-be gardeners had been threatened with pain most excruciating if they picked any tomatoes apart from Daddy's direct authorization, so they have been pacing back and forth in front of the garden planter for days, like panthers, or perhaps more appropriately, like those precariously trained dogs who will hold the doggie-treat on the end of their nose until given the call, at which point the treat will disappear in a lightening flash of teeth and saliva, complete with thunderclap. When I watch those dogs, I can't help but suspect that the owner is as finely trained as the dogs, and knows down to the microsecond when the dog's self-restraint will reach the breaking point, giving the command precisely before the dog cracks and loses its soul in sinful disobedience.

My doggies were getting antsy.

So this afternoon we pulled out a big carrier bowl and headed out to the planter. One-by-one each kid alternated in picking a single tomato at Daddy's direction. We learned not to pull or yank, but to look for the little knuckle an inch or so above where the tomato stem met the fruit and learned how to gently crack the knuckle as to hurt neither the vine nor the fruit. Much to my surprise they were very careful and did their best to follow my advice.

Absolute equality and fairness is the watchword among my tomato pickers. For every tomato L picked, N got one too. If N got a big one on his turn, then next time L got a big one. Tomato picking is tightly regulated, evenly distributed labor in this household. No room for tomato picking prima donas or over-achievers. To the gulag with them!

After the tomatoes it was the peppers. I planted one Serrano plant and one red Thai chili. The Serranos are looking good, but were still green; the "Thai" chilies were beautiful and bright red, but suspiciously rounded and decidedly unlike the long slender red chilies on the little plastic wicket that came with the original starter plant. I think I got duped, but they look good so I'm expecting that all will be OK in the end. (Just wonder how hot their going to be.)



As satisfying as it is to pick things that you've grown yourself, even more satisfying is the logical conclusion of such sacred labor: the hallowed BLT(B) - bacon, lettuce, tomato (and beer).

Love, summer style!