It is not early when I awake. The sun shines through the slits in the blinds, a lawn mower works busily in the distance. It is summer and everything is busy. From sunup to sundown small motors whine as they carry out their tasks. Trucks passing by with cords of wood preparing for winter and young families stroll the sidewalk-less streets admiring homes. There is one resident at this time of year who hides away under green leaves.
A grape tomato beginning to show it’s true colors.
Seen in nearly every garden around North America, is the Tomato. Whether they’re grape, slicers, cherry or heirloom they are surely there. Growing sloppily and overburdened by their fruit, the tomato plant reaches out, looking for support. In our garden rather than finding support, the tomatoes have become supports for our volunteer beans that magically arose in abundance from last year's wayside crop. There are three varieties of tomato in our garden, each ripening at it’s own pace.
Unripe tomatoes promising a worthy harvest.
The cherry tomato ripens first, marble ball sized fruits ablaze with reds and oranges. A slow second to ripen is the grape tomatoes. Oblong fruits not much larger than the tip of a thumb emerge among the foliage, mostly unnoticed. Yet to show a trace of red are the slicer tomatoes. The bulbous fruits weigh so heavily on the plant that they are practically growing among the shaded cucumbers as they rest ever so slightly above the soil. Surely they will be rich with flavor.
A bounty of slicer tomatoes yet to ripen.
There is a pronounced punctuation to summer. An ode to the sun, the transformation of soil, and gratitude for abundant watering that occurs daily. The Harvest.
I pour my morning cup of coffee as I have so many times before, the bands of steam swirl, promises of an awakening. I shuffle about the house collecting odds of clothing to wear for my first outing of the day. Composed of my fading T-shirt, sweats and garden shoes (AKA knock-off crocs) I collect my coffee from the counter and head towards the garden for it’s daily inventory.
Reaching over the wooden gate, I flip the lock up, entering the backyard. Here is where all the magic happens, three garden beds expanding with life grab your attention. What do I notice that’s different today? I think to myself as I near the garden.
1 barbeque, 2 canoes, 3 garden beds.
The peas are tall
The flowers in the far corner have bloomed, a delicate display of white flowers.
Oooo, Look at this! Beans!
And, peering into the depths of greenery, red tomatoes!
Peering into the garden depths, tomatoes are ripening.
I reach into the crisscrossed stems, waiting for contact with the round body of the tomato.
Hmmm, nope, that's a leaf….Ah! Oh, wait, that’s the stem...annnddddd…voilà!
I grasp the red tomato and pinch it off of the plant. It’s fruit is a gift to me. I take a moment to appreciate the small fruit in my hand. It feels a tad dusty, but ultimately smooth. I twist off the remaining stem and toss it back into the garden. Nutrients for next year. The deep red color is fiery in my hand, veins of orange hint at it’s latest outburst of growth. I gently wipe the tomato on my shirt, removing the dust from the glabrous skin. Raising the delightful little fruit to my mouth, I take a second to savor the smell of the summer tomato.
There is no other smell like that of a summer’s tomato. It is the trademark of a successful summer garden, perhaps the climax of a gardener’s summer. The smell can be described as grassy, a bit earthy, and occasionally sweet. Whatever it may be, it is fantastic. There is no other time of year when that precious smell occurs, unless you change hemispheres of course. It is a moment I look forward to annually. A celebration of summer that has been warm and bountiful, a reminder that fall is soon to come and the smell of summer will end.
Before I bite into the special fruit, I enjoy the smell one last time. Popping the tomato into my mouth, I crunch down. There is no replacement for such a bold tomato flavor, just off the vine, the quality exists in no store.
Fortunately for me, I have plenty more tomatoes to pick and summer carries on just a little longer.
A day’s harvest.