If you have been following along at home, you have seen me post about my "garden" here and here. And, you will have surmised that we must be getting close to actually delivering the product we have been counting on. (Well, some of you have that natural farmer instinct. Others of you didn't have a clue as to how long it would take to grow tomatoes either.)
Actually, we have had several nearly ripe to completely ripe tomatoes, but the birds apparently noticed before I did. I was going to make a snarky Facebook/Twitter comment refering to the need to now be paid a visit by an organization that specializes in giving people who do malicious things to animals a hard time. (That and going naked to somehow make you think of animals, although I still am not sure how those are connected.) Given my dad's corpo-stalking experience, I decided that even mentioning the name of this organization in jest might bring down their wrath upon me and so I passed. Point being, the birds ate my tomatoes, so I had to carefully watch to rush out and grab them not a moment too soon.
Tonight, we picked a couple more, to add to the previous ones we had and the result was...
The tomatoes, not the children.
We washed them and cut them up into tiny pieces. The bigger ones are a small variety anyway since they were ones suggested for growing in pots, but they still made a couple of good bite-sized slices. The little ones were perfect for the kids.
Everyone tried some of them and I thought they were delicious. I ate some plain and then in honor of my Grandmother Anderson, who in my faint recollection put salt on plain tomatoes and ate them, I did the same.
I am thinking now about ways to plow up the entire yard, although that might be a bit hasty.
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