Suspect:  The usual suspects.

Due to some rather draconian firearm  laws in my town, I can’t deal with the tomato thieves the way I’d like.  So far, the squirrels have out-consumed the family to a ratio of about 3 to 1.

However, if I lived in the city I’d be dealing with a whole other class of thieves.

Of course, since we planted so late, we don’t even really have enough for some fried green ones.  Not that I’d harvest the first ones with a chance to ripen.

Primo and The Principessa made this wonderful tart on Saturday

This tomato was the only one left undamaged and close to ripe.  But it needed at least another day (and probably two) so I left it on the vine.  Came out this morning to find one tiny bite taken out of it. Curses! Foiled!

And so far it’s the heavyweight winner, even with a we bit removed.  2 lbs. 5/8 ounces.

This year’s contestants:

Cherokee Purple  (always a fave, makes the best BLT’s)

Old German (it takes one to know one)

Green Zebra

Japanese Trefele

Beefsteak

Rutgers  (I’m in Jersey, of course I’m going to have this one)

Super Marzano

San Marzano Gigante 3  (I’m wondering what happened to 1 & 2)

Amish Paste

Orange Paruche

Chocolate Cherry

Sweet 100

Of course a lot of tilling was involved but since I caved-in and gave up on the old Mantis and bought a new tiller,  everyone wanted to get in on the act.  Primo was dying to till, and till he did.

Seen here, tilling the squash patch.

Fortunately we’ve got an eager 13 year old to help.   But some folks don’t have the help at hand.  Here’s a story Mom sent:

An old maan lived alone in  New Jersey  .  He wanted to plant his annual  tomato garden, but it was very difficult work, as the ground was hard.

His only son, Vincent, who used to help him, was in prison. The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament:

Dear Vincent,
I am feeling pretty sad, because it looks like I won’t be able to plant my tomato garden this year. I’m just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. I know if you were here my troubles would be over..  I know you would be happy to dig the plot for me, like in the old days.
Love, Papa

A few days later he received a letter from his son.

Dear Pop,
Don’t dig up that garden. That’s where the bodies are buried.
Love,
Vinnie

 At 4 a.m. the next morning, FBI agents and local police arrived and dug up the entire area without finding any bodies. They apologized to the old man and left.

That same day the old man received another letter from his son.

Dear Pop,
Go ahead and plant the tomatoes now. That’s the best I could do under the circumstances.
Love you,
Vinnie