My brother’s got a new phone with a hands-free device for his car.  He’s got different phone numbers set up to dial according to his voice commands, like “call Miss Mary” or “call the Dairy Maid.”  According to my brother, the device has a tough time with “call Aunt Tomato” and it always questions him.

“Call for your aunt’s tee time?”

He gets a kick every time it happens and he’ll tell me how he has to correct the device by saying

“Call Aunt Toe-May-Toe.”

It’s a crazy first world problem.

Aunt Tomato made a whirlwind trip to Lisbon Falls on Tuesday night for a Moxie Festival meeting.  After I left the meeting, I drove around town to check out my gardens; spring was busting out all over.  Tulips were popping in the Redemption Garden and in the Surprise Garden.  Over at Uncle Bob’s, the 4 inch high pea plants were reaching towards the trellis and standing dangerously close to O’Pa’s rhubarb.  Uncle Bob will have something to say, no doubt.  My rain barrels were out and full (thank you, Uncle Bob) and my lettuce mix is two weeks away from early eating.

Scooting the Jeep behind the barn and avoiding a pea shoot out with Uncle Bob, I zipped over to my parent’s house for a bite to eat before I hit the long road back to The Coop.  I got caught up on the hometown news; my mother told me her farm share at Little Ridge Farm was starting this week.  Then my mother said “Uncle Bob asked if you were going to bring your tomatoes up this weekend.”

Someone is always asking about my tomato plants.

A few weeks ago, Reggie Black asked me if I’d ever heard of using dog kibble as a fertilizer for potted tomatoes and would I consider using it for my garden tomatoes.  He told me an amazing story of an Italian gardener who had grown lush and productive tomatoes by mixing Gravy Train dog food into the potting mix.

At least I think that’s what he said.

I had never heard of such a thing and I can only imagine what Uncle Bob would say if I brought a bag of dog food with me to plant my tomatoes.  We’ll see, Reggie.  All I know right now is that if Uncle Bob is asking about my tomato plants, that means he’s been monitoring the weather and he thinks it’s “go time.”  To say my tomato plants were ready for planting was an understatement.

Once again, I started my seedlings too early and I’ve got a table full of circus freak plants.

Sometimes, I wonder how I dare to call myself Aunt Tomato.  Of course, I could always just call myself Aunt Tee Time…