Cedar City High School Class of 1960 Blog

My Love of Tomatoes

Permit me to share with you the happenings of my day in the garden.

Now, I remind you, I am 74 years old and pleasingly plump, okay, okay…. I’m working on telling the truth.  I’m more than pleasingly plump, I’m actually plumped up.

I absolutely LOVE vine ripened tomatoes right out of the garden, the last few years I haven’t been able to indulge in my passion fruit because we were living in the heart of downtown Ogden city. This winter we moved back to Idaho, settling ourselves out in the country.

With the first sign of spring and delight in my eyes, I bought four small tomato plants and stuck them in the ground out in the middle of a lonely garden plot that was hidden from the view of golfers.

Glory bee, the plants had spread all over each other before I could put on the wire support cages and tie them up.  They were ubiquitous; and of course I was very proud of them. Patiently, I waited, anticipating the day I could taste the savory ripened fruit and was delighted, when the little green balls formed and then began changing to a light shade of orange, AT LAST, a few tomatoes at the bottom of the plants had turned bright red.

My mouth was watering, as I padded out to my dear plants (which were still the only things growing in the neighborhood garden plot.)

It has been at least twenty years since I could bend my knees to SQUAT down to pick up things from off the ground.

I began bending down from the waist to retrieve the beautiful tomatoes. I gathered several of them filling up both hands, I had become so, overly bent over, that I became unbalanced when I reached for one more tomato and couldn’t right myself. I fell down, face first, my body splayed out splattering myself all over my fragile plants. Now that wasn’t the worst of it. The ripe tomatoes that I had been longing for, the very ones I searched out and struggle to pick, are now smashed. My face and head had plowed up the loose dry dirt, it was up my nose and in my mouth, and the juice and pulp from the tomatoes began making the dry dirt into mud that clumped on my face like big warts. My glasses (I’m blind without them) were flung off some place in the jungle mess and I couldn’t find them anywhere.

I was laying right in the middle of my tomato plants flattening them. After a few minutes of contemplating my situation I tried to right myself to get up, knowing full well it would be a strain and a struggle to do so (because I can’t get up without something solid to support me.) I began trying the impossible without success, gently trying to lift myself up to save what plants lay on the sides of me.  I rolled to one side and then the other trying to get up onto my knees, but failed, “Oh to heck with the plants, l must save myself.” I thought, and with a new resolve I began to roll around just like a horse in a wallow. Almost making it all the way up, only to fall again. At least fifty times I pushed my big butt up into the air (with knees locked and legs spread) it protruded, swaying back and forth, but try as I might I couldn’t raise the rest of me up.

Then thinking how ridiculously I must look, I started to laugh. Exhausted from laughing and trying to get up, I lay there.

“I think I will just stay right here until someone finds me” I thought, “That isn’t a realistic solution, besides it is terribly hot.” I mused.

Scanning around me I decided I would try and roll over and over like a kid on a hill until I could reach the corner of a trailer that was parked by the golf course maintenance shed. Where I could lift myself up.  I began rolling over my plants, cringing, as I heard them snapping and breaking under me. On and on, I rolled through the garden. “Wait, what in the world is this?  Obviously a social dumping ground for all the neighborhood dogs.”

Yes, over and over through the dog poop I rolled. Oh, finally, wonderful!!!!… At last I had reached grass, and on across it I rolled until I reached the bumper of a trailer.

With every roll I made, I laughed harder and harder, visualizing how ridiculous I must look to someone was watching me. I had to stop and regain composure before I could get up.

Once upright, I staggered to the garage, opened the door and stepped inside. My husband took one look at my clothes and face covered in dirt, dried dirt tomato warts on my face and smashed tomatoes in my hair and dog doo doo stuck to my hip and hind end. He exclaimed, “What happened to you”???? And I started to giggle.

“Did you get to eat your tomatoes?” You ask, the answer is ”No” but the LAUGH did me more good than a tomato ever could.

The garden looks like a big herd of elephants tromped through it.

Now, the broken vines are withering, just like I am…. But, inside this aging body still lurks the girl that loves to laugh and who will forever remain young at heart.

Isn’t life wonderful????

To laugh at your self is a great blessing.!!!

 

Carolee Wyatt

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