Tomato Time!

Dogwoods are pretty. Budding azaleas are impressive. But, nothing says spring quite like planting your tomatoes. Their little hairy stalks, the smell of the actual tomatoes that will come from them lingers on your fingers just from a casual brush with their leaves. They are the only garden plant I deal with that gives such a sensual prelude of things to come. I mean the fruit is still like two months away, and the plant already smells like it.

They can also be the canary in the coal mine for the aggressive gardener like me. They are in the ground. It's still late April. A cold snap, perhaps. A couple of days of cold maybe . . . They may be doomed, but, if they make it I'll be reaping the rewards early!

I'm trying a new spot for them this year, up next to a heat radiating wall of my house, opposite a light-colored, sun reflecting walkway. There's already a ton of heat there, and it's only April. They are sheltered from some rain, mitigating fungus, the Rain barrels are hooked up to the gutters. It's gonna be a great year.

The other great thing about tomatoes is that you don't have to preach about them. They sell themselves. A vine ripened tomatoe, fresh from the garden, sliced on a plate will dissapear. Add salt if you really want to see them fly off the table. Spring veggies . . . ? The roots, turnips, radishes, Collards; they can be a tough sell. Tomatoes herrald the arrival of the good stuff. Squash, mellons, beans.

Someday soon. I'm going to start the truck and head off to work, and roll down my windowat 6:30 am, and it will be warmer outside than in, and I'll know. Summer is here. The plants I'm planting now will know it is their time. They will litterally kill themselves trying to produce seeds in attractive packaging. And, I will be there, gathering, preparing and canning whatever is left.