orbs of happiness
Image by McBeth
Probably, oh, two weeks have elapsed since the last time I meandered out to the back garden to check on the plants. It wasn’t even as though I kept trying to remember to look in on them; I just completely lost track of that area of the universe while attending to others. Until this afternoon, when a bird outside the kitchen window began causing a commotion. The commotion caught my eye, I quietly stepped out the back door to see what that was about, then I gasped as I looked over to the cherry tomato plant.
In two week’s time that plant has turned into some creepy wonderful Little Shop of Horrors Seymouristic monster lush with pom pons of 6 to 8 tomatoes, deep red clusters that sag over both themselves and the tomato cage as though the plant is too too pregnant, as though her center of gravity has been so altered that she is unable to stand anywhere near upright these days.
"Birth me, already!", it groaned.
I ducked back into the house to grab a bowl, then obliged my neglected fruit-bearing friend. The three quart sized bowl was not really large enough to hold all the cherries I picked, but as long as I walked slowly and balanced each new addition carefully on the top, it worked well enough.
Each time I pass by the bowl I nibble. Two. Three. Two. Three more. I can’t stop thinking about how lucky I am to have grown and harvested such a treat.