I didn’t pull the tomato plants for trash pick-up last week because my can was already full of tree limbs. (I trimmed low-hanging limbs after I got sick of getting my hair stuck in them while mowing.) My plants in a sack survived only by the trichomes (tomato hair) of their chinny chin chins. I stopped watering them and ignored them for 5 days. And then…
TADA!
The bad news is those Peskies have me buried in tomatoes already — and the vines of my plants in a sack are weighed-down full. Today, I picked 5 and ate 2. There are at least 5 more ripe and probably a bajillion green and ‘almost ready’ ones. Perry, Ben and Colette are anti-tomato so I’m left with the lone job of consuming them alone. Still, I’m thrilled I grew tomatoes that ripened before Christmas — and a little surprised too.
Although I swore I’d never do the tomatoes in a sack again, I might just have to rethink that now that I can claim a limited amount of success.
TIL (Today I Learned): The Hindenburg, filled with 7 million cubic feet of flammable Hydrogen gas had a smokers’ lounge. 😲