Okay, so I'm really sorry about my tomatoes. They remained alive despite a digging dog, a painful heat spell, a flood, weeds a mile high, only to be eaten alive by some bug that looked like it had on a shield. I gloried in the tenacity of those golden, then orange, then ripened orbes. I waited til the color was just right and then I decended my deck staircase to capture them in a bowl. Before the mayonaise was room temperature, I discovered the holes decorating each and every one. After all we had been through together, I thought we had a chance at success, but ..no.
You see, I had watched the objects of my sandwich-making affections from my deck. I only watered them at deep dusk. I actually never came out to check on them at all. They looked like they were fine to me. Alas, my lack of up close and personal attention was their downfall. Now
I'm having a hard time chopping them down as they stand there resplendent in red and green.
It's kindof like any good relationship. A true friend who is close enough to see when you are
threatened or having a tough time is not just gazing at you from afar. They're close enough to
help you kill your bugs.