Every morning, I take a tomato out of the fridge and put it either on the kitchen bench or the table on the deck. I do this because one of the real joys of a summer garden is the tomatoes. And one of the real joys of a tomato harvest is tomato on toast for breakfast. And everyone knows that tomatoes are at their most flavourful when eaten at room temperature. So I take my tomato out of the fridge and put it in the morning sun to warm it.
Invariably someone will pick up the tomato and put it back in the fridge, or into a shaded part of the kitchen bench. I’m not sure why this happens–we aren’t an especially tidy kind of people in this house and you could easily go back to a coffee cup you put down somewhere and come back three days later to find it there. I guess that isn’t strictly true. I’m not an especially tidy person, but there are tidy people in this house, and they’re the people who move my tomato.
Anyway, I’ve made my feelings known and no one will be moving my tomato again.
(Of course on the other hand, one of the real disappointments of summer is when the tomatoes don’t flourish and all summer you look at the spindly plants that are refusing to give you anything more than the odd speckly fruit).
The tomatoes are growing so well because we put in some raised garden wicking beds that are filled with all the good stuff. However raised garden wicking beds that are filled with all the good stuff do have limitations for some things. Such as the cosmos. Watching the cosmos grow, I have really been looking forward to their flowering. But all they are is enormous foliage with very few blooms. The lettuce bolted almost as soon as it had leaves. And one of the spinach plants has grown so enormous that the leaves look like the ears of elephants and are overshadowing everything else.
But the tomatoes. The tomatoes are amazing.
The cosmos we do have are gorgeous. I thought I’d planted white, so these were a bit of a surprise, but a lovely one.
