Back on May 13, I wrote a boastful essay about my garden’s first tomatoes of 2022. Accompanying it was a photo showing a clutch of those first toms resplendently bathed in shimmering rays of sunlight.
And, yes, I boasted. Because even then, only midway through spring, I sensed a productive season lay ahead. And did it ever. My little farm yielded from its multiple containers and a single raised bed the heaps of tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers and lettuce that have accented our meals for months.
Alas, it’s now Dec. 20, just a day shy of the winter solstice. Most of the garden plants have withered, although three – a tomato and two peppers – labor on. That is a blessing of living in the Deep South.
But a hard freeze cometh Friday. Yes, even to south Louisiana.
So today, I braved drizzle and 50-degree temps to pick the last of the cherry tomatoes. The fruit is plump, although the plant itself has faded against the chill and shorter days.
So, today, we’ll eat the last tomato – and fold the garden into memory.
Tales from the garden
Pride goeth before rotten tomatoes
Stubborn meets crazy in the garden
You married a garden killer, dear
