Monday, August 8, 2011

There are grocery stores for a reason.......

A Dollar’s Worth
By Alisa Dollar

I have bad luck growing tomatoes. I love fresh tomatoes. When I’ve decided I can grow them something always happens.

Years ago, I tried. After husband told me to whip them, a hailstorm, and a very early freeze we had many jars of Chow Chow and meals with fried green tomatoes.

Looking back, that was one of my better growing seasons. Sounds as though I’m a seasoned tomato grower, right?


I rarely whipped my own children much less a bunch of innocent tomato plants that our then miniature dachshund Klutzheimer ‘watered’ daily. At least with the acts of God, I still had Chow Chow and fried green tomatoes.

After 30 plus years I decided last year I’d try again. I got four little tiny tomatoes, hardly enough for a good salad.

I think the bugs enjoyed the rest of the plant. Husband didn’t tell me to whip these since I only had one pot of them. I had to get them high enough so that now mini-doxie Maxwell Smart couldn’t water them.

This year I got one of those upside down hanging things. I didn’t know when the box is opened there’s no dirt (husband says soil, I say dirt is dirt) or seeds, just a green hangy-downy floppy plastic thing with a hole in the bottom and the top.

It’s easy to figure which end is the top (thank goodness) because the hanger is on that end. I decided rather than put seeds in all the dirt I’d funneled inside the little hole in the top, I’d put an already started plant with little tiny yellow leaves, which hubby says should be tomatoes.

I didn’t miss he said “should” rather than “would”—it appears he has no confidence in my gardening/farming/tomato growing skills.

There should be a gadget that says “STOP! That’s too much water” or “HELP! I need water” and “These bugs are driving me crazy.”

I never seem to know when to do what. Whatever I choose seems to always be wrong. I wish I could blame the weather or the dog, or that I had spanked them even though they were upside down.

They died a slow and painful death. Those little yellow things fell off and nothing replaced them unless you count brown brittle leaves.

Wish I had a Farmer’s Market next door.

I’m really good at buying fresh yummy tomatoes.

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