It is not supposed to frost tonight, but I am going to get up and go put a sheet over my tomatoes just in case – sort of a practice protecting move that will convince me that a sheet is not enough. Soon, I will just have to pick all the green ones and let them ripen in the house and eventually, there will be no more really “tomato tangy taste” until next summer. It’s tricky, this garden tomato thing; they taste so good, but eat too many and you will actually get sores on the inside of your mouth. You have to ration them out – no tomato marathons, but all the time you are spacing your eating, time is running out.
Surely, there must be some Greek myth that deals with this dilemma. Or not. It is, I suppose, just irony.
My mom faithfully planted tomatoes. A lot of tomatoes. We had an 80 day growing season ( yes, only 80 days!) so we never got a ripe tomato. She made green tomato relish every year. Quarts and quarts of it. I have many memories of being out in the garden picking tomatoes while it began to snow.