Elaine sent me to the tomato patch. “Is it on the top of the hill?”, I asked. “Behind the berries?” She looked at me, wanting to say yes, but stumped by my question. I looked at her holding her new baby and I felt silly, “Oh, I’ll find them.”
I mean come on, I am not a farmer, but I can certainly recognize a tomato plant. As I approached the hilltop, I saw the big red-orange fruit and realized my mistake. The tall bushy plants I saw from a distance were not berries. They WERE the tomato plants — five or six long rows of over 100 tomato plants staked up to stand taller than me. In contrast, the few plants at my house, left to fend on their own, preferred to slump and spread wildly over the ground.
It’s such a civilized way to pick tomatoes. You barely need to bend over. Each plant stands around 6 feet tall, climbing up a fence of rebar and twine. I left my cart at the end and walked in between two rows all very exactly the same wide distance apart. It was dense and quiet and I thought about how I could hide in here and maybe even get lost. Well, at least get lost in my thoughts.
Come check them out for yourself and get a tour of other crops at the Everblossom Farm party on Saturday, October 19 at 2:00 PM!
I was looking to glean seconds, especially of my favorite sweet yellow heirloom, Striped Germans. The bulging fruit with a split here or there hung heavily on the vine. They gave easily with the slightest twist or tug and I tried not to squish them in my hands. I had a feeling of coming to their rescue. I was rescuing them to my canning jars. To preserve and save them for winter.
It is interesting the things that can give you purpose when you least expect it and when you most need it.