I woke up to a shower of Doomer e-mails this morning, before I’d even had a chance to drink my coffee and pretend I’d slept. As I sorted through my grisly e-mails, “MUST WATCH” video clips, and depressing links, I was pleased to hear the tapping of rain on the window. We need the rain, “like fer sure.”
When I turned on the grow light over my “tomato work bench” it occurred to me I started my tomato seeds too early this year.
I’m not complaining; all of my 27 plants look great.
I’m a little worried about some of the ones which are almost 10 inches tall right now and how freakishly leggy they will be in 4 weeks when I plant them in the garden I share with Uncle Bob, 100 miles north of here.
I have a few thoughts about how I might get them out of The Coop and into a transition location without killing them. I only have a few thoughts, though, because the pace of post-modern life doesn’t allow much time for critical thinking and problem solving. It’s entirely possible that the problem of Aunt Tomato’s tomatoes isn’t the problem of our time, though. Maybe someone is creating an app right now which will provide the world with nutritious digital tomatoes to assuage our hunger and provide a holographic alternative to the natural world.
I just read that last paragraph out loud. The tomatoes on my “work bench” said nothing.
Insert silence here.
The problem of Aunt Tomato’s tomatoes isn’t the problem of our time, but it is the problem of yours. Of course your tomatoes said nothing. They know better.