Tomatoes

All of us, well, those of us raised by proper Southern mamas know that it is a requirement of citizenship in the South to plant, you say tomatos, I say tomatoes, every year. When discussing tomato planting heated discussions can evolve about when, where, and how to plant them.

Surely in this day and time, one should be able to consult the internet to answer their questions.

How hard could it be just stick the plants in our red, rock-hard clay and pray for rain. 11 million websites currently exist just to give you a one up on the neighbors about such things.

By now if you have followed the advice about planting tomatoes after the last frost, you should be seeing something that looks like small green marbles on your tomato vines. If not, on a moon-less night, go dig up the neighbor’s vines that produce watermelon size fruits each year and transplant in the back of your house. Better yet just wait until the neighbors’ tomatoes are red and ripe and sneak over after they drive off and help yourself to their harvest.

The next day the neighbors may ask a few questions, be ready with some sharp answers.

“It seems our ripe tomatoes have disappeared. Did you see anyone or any animal near our garden last night?” Please practice a surprised look along with a sympathetic sigh before uttering, “I was going to ask you the very same thing. We were robbed, too. I bet it was ____ (fill in the blank with animal name or someone that no one likes in the neighborhood).”

If Plan A, B…F plans don’t work, maybe a friend who grows an abundance of tomatoes will have pity on you or pick up a few at Ingles or our Saturday Market on the Square.