Sometime in June, Mitch and I were in a big box store and I fell for two cute tomato plants. They were wagging their leaves just waiting for somebody to take them home. I named them Toms. Two months later, I hired a Tomato Plant Hitman. Let me explain the juicy tale.

I Never Claimed to be a Gardener

I brought the plants to our home near ski country. Since, we are not there each day, I also bought two self-watering globes. The concept is that the globe will release water when the plant needs to rehydrate. The water supply lasts two weeks. Or so they say…

I left the plants in good hands and returned several days later to find empty globes and thirsty tomatoes. Ok, this isn’t going to work.

Next, I brought the plants to our home in the burbs. My thought was that I would manage their existence better in this location. At first, they lived on the porch to escape the deer. But Again, this pathetic gardener would forget to water or water too much to compensate. So I moved them outdoors and hoped for the best from Mother Nature.

Yet, despite my incompetence, the tomatoes began to thrive until last week.

Exterminator

I received word that the outdoor exterminator was coming to spray the exterior of our house, a scheduled summertime visit. In preparation, I carried, or shall I say, Mitch carried, the plants into the garage to escape the spray.

The next day, we returned the Toms to their original location near the hose. I was confident that my little green friends would survive.

Until…(Dark Music Sounds Please)

The grass people came to treat our lawn WITHOUT any warning or advance notice. I saw their sign bragging on my lawn, sprayed without pesticides. But still, what was it sprayed with this time? I called and received vague answers about the product. And that’s when I knew I would never eat those tomatoes.

Tomato Plant Hitman

I sent a text to Mitch, who wasn’t home at the time: “When you do the garbage today, just get rid of the tomato plants. But I don’t want to see the evidence; I just want them gone.” I later added that you are my “Tomato Plant Hitman.” Mitch replied, ” OK, I’ll keep it clean. No prints.”

So, on Wednesday, the garbage people picked up my Toms and my hopes of becoming a suburban farmer.

But Wait, There is More

On another note, Mitch is an amazing farmer. Four years ago, he planted an orchid of 32 trees. And this is the year we bore fruit—Peaches, Plumcots, Cherries, Apples, Oh My! Nothing is better than orchard-to-mouth peaches! I made peach and plumcot bread and peach muffins. Our daughter Carly made cobbler.

My Tomato Vow

I am sorry tomatoes, I promise I will not buy your relatives next year. I will buy grocery store or farm stand tomatoes. My residential farming days are over. I will stick to writing!