I don’t think you understand. I can’t grow anything that requires my attention. If a plant can’t take care of itself, it is doomed in my care. Plants don’t like me. Never have. So I’m probably jinxing the harvest by even talking about this:
My grandpa always grew the best tomatoes. Frankly, he grew the best whatever. He always had a cutting of some odd thing or another that he was trying to grow. Oh, and his kohlrabi (or as we pronounced it, “call-a-rabbi”) were the BEST. He is a green thumb extraordinaire, in my humble opinion. I have tried off and on over the years to grow tomatoes because they have to be my favorite food (and pretty much anything created from them goes along for the ride) and I have such fond memories of home-grown tomatoes.
I know these babies aren’t ripe yet, but it is giving me immense pleasure to see them get even this far.
::sniffle:: Please excuse me, I’m feeling a little verklempt…