Dang it, I've done it again. Those poor tomatoes didn't stand a chance. 😭🍅❄️

Published: Sun, 04/24/22

Greetings, Rural Sprout readers,

I have to say I’m a little miffed at myself this Sunday. I’ve gone and done it again. It happens every year, and perhaps you can commiserate with me.

I’ve murdered some poor defenseless tomatoes already.

Where I live, we’re certainly within the period where we should have had our last frost, but it appears Mother Nature or the Pennsylvania spring weather had other ideas.

I only got two of them in the ground, mind you, but they were my babies; two Amish Paste tomatoes I started from seed back in February. And now they are nothing but translucent mush flattened to the ground in my garden. Or at least they were; I yanked them up out of the ground in disgust and tossed them on the compost pile.

The weather had been nice, and that ten-day forecast looked great!

But what I couldn’t see when I planted my tomatoes was days 11, 12, and 13, where the bottom fell out from the sunny weather, and we got snow again. Yes, snow.

I covered everything, but those poor tomatoes didn’t stand a chance. Believe it or not, there are plants out there under that snow. The lettuce planted next to the tomatoes is doing just fine, and the cabbages were quite happy under their jars when I uncovered them after the snow melted.

Well, I already told you what happened to the tomatoes.

I would love to say this rarely happens, but I have to confess it occurs almost every single year. And I’ve been gardening for a long time. You would think I would know better by now, but I can’t help myself. I get impatient to get out in the garden and play in the dirt.

Please, tell me I’m not alone here, dear reader.

I love winter, it’s my favorite season, but there comes a point where I’m ready for warm weather. More importantly, I’m ready for coffee on the balcony in the morning while I look over my plants. I crave fried zucchini sandwiches, spicy eggplant with garlic, fresh pesto made with basil from the garden and quart mason jars filled with water and fresh peppermint steeping in the sun.

I want anything but more cold weather and heavy food.

I’m ready for spring. Really ready for spring. How about you, dear readers? For now, I’ll have to live vicariously through Marie O. down in Texas with her peppy yellow squash.

Maybe I’ll make a pot of peppermint tea with the dried leaves I saved from last summer, anything to keep my itchy fingers busy until ‘all danger of frost’ has truly passed.