I really didn't expect to receive any feedback, but then again I was dealing with mostly elementary school teachers. I recently went back to work after being unemployed for a few weeks. I enjoyed seeing all of my old teaching buddies. We certainly are an unusual lot. We all share a unique teaching experience and cherish that related commraderie.
However, I really did not expect to have people walk up to me and begin sharing tomato stories. Let me explain. If you were to search this site, you might uncover that back in May, I was selling and giving away my home-grown tomato plants. I grew my babies from seed in my living room during the dark parts of the winter. I have a grow lab that I keep in my dining/living room where I can start about 12 flats of 72 plants. Double that because I usually double seed in each pocket.
Anyway, I ended up with about 500 tomato and pepper plants. Of these, I sold a few plants and gave away many more. In the end, I only had about ten left over. Most of my plants went to my colleagues.
So when I returned to work the other day, teachers streamed up to me to share their tomato success stories. I must say that pride welled up within me. I was so happy they've all had such successes. However, sadness welled up within me, too. Here were these people who have little experience growing tomatoes having uncanny success growing fruit while I slogged through a mediocre (at best) crop of tomatoes. I mean my tomato plants are withering, late in ripening fruit and devoid of healthy tomatoes. I have a counter-top of tomatoes right now that I can't eat, but not enough to can. I do have many cherry tomatoes to eat at will, but not enough to make salsa.
Story after story. "Huge tomatoes!" "I can't believe we got so many!" "My husband talks to them every day and they are HUGE!" "Wow! I can't believe how many tomatoes we've gotten from just a couple of plants."
Well, I planted about 75 plants, and I may be lucky to get about 70 tomatoes. I guess this is simply a clarion call to improve my soil and improve my caretaking responsibilities. Viva la tomatoe!
Eat it!
However, I really did not expect to have people walk up to me and begin sharing tomato stories. Let me explain. If you were to search this site, you might uncover that back in May, I was selling and giving away my home-grown tomato plants. I grew my babies from seed in my living room during the dark parts of the winter. I have a grow lab that I keep in my dining/living room where I can start about 12 flats of 72 plants. Double that because I usually double seed in each pocket.
Anyway, I ended up with about 500 tomato and pepper plants. Of these, I sold a few plants and gave away many more. In the end, I only had about ten left over. Most of my plants went to my colleagues.
So when I returned to work the other day, teachers streamed up to me to share their tomato success stories. I must say that pride welled up within me. I was so happy they've all had such successes. However, sadness welled up within me, too. Here were these people who have little experience growing tomatoes having uncanny success growing fruit while I slogged through a mediocre (at best) crop of tomatoes. I mean my tomato plants are withering, late in ripening fruit and devoid of healthy tomatoes. I have a counter-top of tomatoes right now that I can't eat, but not enough to can. I do have many cherry tomatoes to eat at will, but not enough to make salsa.
Story after story. "Huge tomatoes!" "I can't believe we got so many!" "My husband talks to them every day and they are HUGE!" "Wow! I can't believe how many tomatoes we've gotten from just a couple of plants."
Well, I planted about 75 plants, and I may be lucky to get about 70 tomatoes. I guess this is simply a clarion call to improve my soil and improve my caretaking responsibilities. Viva la tomatoe!
Eat it!
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