It's Really Sad
With the possible move coming up in the next month or two (fingers crossed), I started immediately looking at my 'stuff' to gauge how much packing there is to do. And I realized something right off the bat and made plans for it - TOMATOES!
I have nine 5-gallon containers and this one bin of tomatoes on my porch at the apartment. Right now they are about two feet tall. Very moveable at this point in time. Even though my friend Christine is on vacation at the moment (and I'm watching her cats and stealing her peonies), I asked if I could move them to her house while they were still a size to move easily. After all, she has a vegetable garden and a large yard. Sensible, practical, thinking ahead - right?
Then yesterday morning, after I walked the dogs, my bottom lip started sticking out. If I move my tomatoes I won't get to see them grow up. WAIT!
These are plants. It's not like I'm just throwing them to the curb. I can visit them - daily if I wanted too. Christine will care for the just fine. But will she pet them and talk to them? Will she peek to see if their little blooms are setting fruit? Will she be smiling when she sees the white tomatoes or the black or purple tomatoes growing and getting ready to pick?
I expressed these thoughts to Savvy on the way to work and after her eyes stopped rolling to the back of her head, her response was, "Be practical, Mom. There's always next season."
BE PRACTICAL! NEXT SEASON! I won't have a chance several times a day to brush against them and get that tomato smell on my hands. I won't be able to walk out my door and pick a ripe, warm tomato.
I know Christine will read this and giggle - a lot. Her husband, who is a police officer, will be wondering what sort of idiot they gave a key to their house to feed their cats. And who will be stopping by on a regular basis to check on her 'children'.
I know what I have to do. After all, I am an adult. But there will be a definite reluctance in my actions. But I can't wait until Christine tries to feed her kids a white tomato!
I have nine 5-gallon containers and this one bin of tomatoes on my porch at the apartment. Right now they are about two feet tall. Very moveable at this point in time. Even though my friend Christine is on vacation at the moment (and I'm watching her cats and stealing her peonies), I asked if I could move them to her house while they were still a size to move easily. After all, she has a vegetable garden and a large yard. Sensible, practical, thinking ahead - right?
Then yesterday morning, after I walked the dogs, my bottom lip started sticking out. If I move my tomatoes I won't get to see them grow up. WAIT!
These are plants. It's not like I'm just throwing them to the curb. I can visit them - daily if I wanted too. Christine will care for the just fine. But will she pet them and talk to them? Will she peek to see if their little blooms are setting fruit? Will she be smiling when she sees the white tomatoes or the black or purple tomatoes growing and getting ready to pick?
I expressed these thoughts to Savvy on the way to work and after her eyes stopped rolling to the back of her head, her response was, "Be practical, Mom. There's always next season."
BE PRACTICAL! NEXT SEASON! I won't have a chance several times a day to brush against them and get that tomato smell on my hands. I won't be able to walk out my door and pick a ripe, warm tomato.
I know Christine will read this and giggle - a lot. Her husband, who is a police officer, will be wondering what sort of idiot they gave a key to their house to feed their cats. And who will be stopping by on a regular basis to check on her 'children'.
I know what I have to do. After all, I am an adult. But there will be a definite reluctance in my actions. But I can't wait until Christine tries to feed her kids a white tomato!
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