After having the driveway repaved and the turnaround in back ripped up I discoverd I had room for a new bed. Raised bed, of course. And this one gets the best sun of all. So of course it will be the home for the bulk of out tomato plants.
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
Last night we roasted a bunch of hothouse tomatoes in The Egg and then chopped them up and combined them with some sauteed onion and garlic and the first of our own basil. Not too bad a pasta sauce if I do say so. Next time I might forgo the oak chips in The Egg, though. It was a wee bit smoky.