It’s a little embarrassing, really.  I have a mother who was once a dedicated tomato grower, and my mother-in-law still harvests both tomatoes and peonies, for heaven’s sake.  And here I am, nearing the end of a fifth decade of life, and I’ve never even attempted a home-grown tomato.  This from someone who eats tomato sandwiches all summer long.  Plain white bread, Hellman’s mayo, tomato slices, salt and pepper, and you have a real fine meal.  This year I have decided life is short, and I will not be intimidated.

Just last month I took my new-found determination to the local nursery and ran into a cheerful woman named Elizabeth Higgenbotham.  I told her my problem, and she had an immediate solution.  “Get a big container,” she said.  “Just plant one tomato plant,” she suggested.  “Don’t worry about fertilizing,” she mentioned.  “Add some basil alongside,” she offered.  Why, she had done all of this and it had worked out fine.  For someone like me with no experience, this was music to my ears.  I took her advice, and home I went.  With occasional watering and no fertilizing, I am doing pretty well so far.

Chick B's lone tomato plant with basil taking over alongside

My husband is in on the act now, apparently.  I caught him watering the lone plant just this afternoon.  I think he wants credit if we actually keep the squirrels away and land a big one.  Chick A also has gotten in on the act over at her house and is trying to steal some of my thunder by planting an herb garden, mint, a jalapeno plant, AND a tomato plant.  Showoff.  We’ll see who harvests what (can’t wait to see if she actually gets jalapeno).

Chick A's tomato plant

Chick A's mint

Chick A's herb garden, including jalapeno

I need to look up the patron saint of gardening and adjust my prayer life accordingly, just to stay in the hunt.  I’ll be waiting and watching – and keeping you posted.

Chick B