I planted my garden as early as possible this year, in anticipation of an early tomato harvest. I was secretly hoping to bring a plate of sliced tomatoes to the neighborhood 4th of July block party. Then we had an unseasonably cool and wet June; a reminder to me that Mother Nature will not be hurried along.
A few weeks ago, the tomatoes began to bloom. One evening, I counted two and then three yellow flowers on my tomato plants; soon there were too many to count. Promising.
But the rain and the cool temperatures continued (I haven't had to water my garden with the sprinkler since late-May); my basil plants long for warmth; the peppers are puny. The zinnias are barely knee-high. Nothing is thirsty, but the absence of warmth shows. Sigh. I figured that I wouldn't enjoy cut flowers or a warm tomato sliced-fresh for the supper table until late July.
And then this weekend, in my daily walk through the garden, I saw two tiny green tomatoes.
The zinnias are about to deliver a flower.
The Jack-be-Little pumpkin vine is looking incredibly fertile.
The hydrangea has been busy.
This is what I love about gardening. You work and work (and that alone is satisfying) and then all that hard work begins to pay off. No matter how hard-earned it is, the pay off always feel sudden. One afternoon's walk in the garden reveals that things are coming along. And then the next day there are two tiny, green tomatoes on a plant.