August 15, 2011

Tomato, to-mah-to

Patience is so hard.

I traded a basil plant at the end of May for two baby tomato plants, each about two inches tall.  I carefully tended them, potted them first together in a pot on the balcony, then eventually separated them the way parents separate siblings who have grown too old to share a bedroom.

They grew up.  They grew leafy.  They had long tendrils of tomato vine with delicate foliage.  But they didn't have any tomatoes.

The past few weeks, I have checked every day (sometimes, I confess, I checked too optimistically and more often than that) for evidence that the vines would give up luscious, red fruits.  I checked the yellow flowers obsessively, looking for the telltale signs of plant pregnancy.  No dice.

Today, I decided to rearrange the myriad pots of basil, mint, and tomatoes on our tiny balcony so that they all get a little different sun patch.  I leaned in--my face about six inches from the flowers--and flicked my index finger just underneath.

Behold!  A tiny green globe, about a centimeter in diameter.
I will get tomatoes yet!

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