Saturday, November 2, 2013

My Words Are Tested

I cannot adequately describe to you the beauty of this day.  71 glorious degrees, clear blue skies, and light breezes adding a little drama as autumn leaves swirl down from the trees out my widow as I wile away the day in my kitchen. Amazing doesn't even come close.


As I said, I have been cooking today.  Still trying to get on track with my homemade Christmas goals.  Of course when I cook, I end up with lots of goodies to add to my compost pile for my spring garden.  Today it's peels and cores from apples and pears, ends of cucumbers, and some carrot shreds.  On a trip out to the bin with all these left over bits and basket full of shredded paper, I noticed some spots of orange in my garden.  Can I tell you how excited I was?  I knew this would be my first round of tomatoes.  I couldn't wait to get in the gate to check them out.


However, a sadness came over me when I realized that something was wrong.  My beauties had not been ravaged by birds or bored by distasteful worms, but in fact they had fallen victim to the rain.  Not the lack of it, mind you, but to the deluge we experienced over the last 2 weeks.  The 4 or so inches that has fallen here in a relatively short amount of time has caused my tomatoes to crack.


I should be mad, furious really.  I have worked so hard on my garden and was truly drooling at the thought of my own tomatoes.   I had visions of canning salsa with them (using up some of my jalapeno abundance in the process), homemade tomato soup, and even diced tomatoes for chili.  But I'm not mad.  Really, I'm not.


For roughly 26 years I have written a check to one water company or another, and remember times when the rains didn't come for weeks . . . months.  Rain, as a friend once said, is like money falling from the sky. Each drop is a penny I don't need to spend to keep all that grows around me alive.  I never complain about rain.  I repeat.  I NEVER complain about rain.


So today I mourn my tomatoes without a grumble.   But I confess to being thrilled that there remain some green tomatoes that appear healthy and unaffected, and that my plants are covered in yellow blossoms which may, if I'm lucky, give me another chance at that salsa.