I quit growing tomatoes. They haven’t liked me for years. It’s hard anyway in Colorado, except for cherries. The one year I had an absolutely marvelous crop, including heirlooms and those “beef boys” and “little girls” or whatever they’re called, I’d had a party shortly after I’d dug the bed. We lit a bonfire in the center of the new bed and stood around singing ’50s pop songs. A few days later, I dug in the ashes, added a little more compost and lo! the best ever!!
The richness lasted only a year. These days I’m tomato’ing vicariously. Here’s a bowl of cheery cherries from Rose Anna Bethel (you’ll recall her monster cherry tomato plant from an earlier post):
And next door, in Susie’s amazing raised beds, there’s a small, exquisite aubergine or “black” tomato called Indigo Rose.
Beneath that “black” is a splash of green and when that green turns red, the tomato is ripe.
They are milder than most cherry tomatoes — not as sweet — but, oh, they make the tastebuds, as well as the eyeballs, smile.