Fall Green Tomatoes

 

 October 6, 2014.  Tonight I harvested my patio vegetable garden.  It was the last, well actually it was the only harvest of the season.  And in this fact lived a lesson.

 The journey began late during the month of May.  Determined to right my wrong from the last growing season I planted early.  I chose my tomato plants from the expensive garden center. No Home Depot seedlings this year.  I knew these came from hardy stock. I purchased the expensive gardening soil. It had “Miracle” in the name so I knew it was the good stuff.  I made sure to place rocks at the bottom of the pots to allow for proper drainage. Root rot was not to be my destiny. 

 Each morning from the planting day I would water my tomatoes, realign their trajectory in relation to the sun.  June passed and no flowers for the fruit to emerge from. I thought the lack of production had been caused by disrupting the plants and moving the pots from the deck during the house painting.  Maybe they didn’t receive the correct amount of sun. 

  With the house painting completed by late June and the pots back in their appointed spots I thought we were ready for a takeoff.  But, unfortunately still no buds.  I saved the egg shells from my breakfast and crumpled them upon the soil in the pots.  I even added plant vitamin sticks to the soil. No sign of buds.  I thought that the pot housing the plum tomato plants seemed too shallow.  So I replanted them into a deeper pot that allowed for more root expansion. Every morning I watered my garden.

 While my husband and I were away on vacation during the latter part of July our son meticulously watered the tomato plants.  They were healthy and vibrant upon our return.  I continued to care for them and one mid-August morning a single yellow bud appeared.  I felt as if I was exposing my grade school petri dish experiment to the world.  My babies were ready to bloom, expand and move on!

  I dreamed of plucking a juicy, ripe red tomato from the vine, clenching my jaw and lowering my teeth upon its delicate skin.  Thoughts of the warm tomato liquid oozing into my mouth excited me.  This is the freshest of fresh.  Fruits plucked from the vine and enjoyed at that moment.  How divine!

   As late August arrived my friends were harvesting their red bounty, but I could not.  There was nothing to harvest. This year, that experience was not to be mine.  No spur of the moment pleasure just continued nurturing.  Each and every morning I watered my plants.  I believed in their promise.  I celebrated their joy and I knew if I loving cared for them they would achieve all that they could be.   And I enjoyed the ruby red tomatoes from the local farm stand.

 Time moved on by mid-September there was no red ripeness on my vine, just a few small green tomatoes. I continued to shower my love upon them.  The nights were getting cooler.  I worried about their survival but continued to nourish them.

  October quietly crept in.  The days grew shorter and the nights colder. Morning frost crystals coated the blades of grass and the tree leaves.  Maybe it is time to accept that I did all that I could do for these plants. Maybe green tomatoes are all that these vines can give me.  My nourishment, caring and compassion has gotten this crop to the place where it is. The exact place where it was supposed to be.   

  Tonight, with a sense of sadness I plucked the green tomatoes from the vines and I placed them into a brown paper bag.   The tomatoes may be green and housed in a brown paper bag, but the lesson they shared is golden. As much love, effort and understanding that you give to someone or something you cannot control the outcome.  Everything ripens at its own pace.   And sometimes it simply doesn’t ripen at all.

  My hope is that my green tomatoes find in the dark that which they could not find in the summer sunshine. Each of us grow into ourselves at our own pace.  Maybe my green tomatoes need to spend some time in the dark, in a place of self-reflection and go within to find their light.  My summer patio garden did not yield a harvest of fruits or vegetables, but it was not an exercise in futility. Rather it was one of love, patience, caring and revelation.  When we arrive at the understanding that things may not always turn out the way that we want them to, but they are as they should, we find peace. 

 Sometime the path of growth through darkness yields the greatest gifts and brightest lights.....Or maybe it simply means that I am destined to have a fried green tomato party!