Hubby-dear loves fresh tomatoes. Growing them in Colorado was hopeless without a greenhouse, which we didn’t have.
Our first year back in Texas’ warmer climate, we bought small tomato plants.
We babied the plants. Fed. Watered. Positioned the pots around for the best sunlight.
Nothing. Not even a bloom for the birds and squirrels to nibble.
Determined, we tried again the next year. This time we picked a different grower for the bedding plants. Birds or squirrels ate all the blooms.
Hubby-dear threw up his hands in frustration. We’ll buy from our lovely farmers’ market.
Then this year, I spotted a couple of marked down tomato plants at the grocery store and decided we’d give homegrown tomatoes one more try.
Both plants had blooms proving the plants could, at least, produce blooms. Those blooms quickly dropped off once the plants were in our backyard.
“Wait,” I said. “There’ll be more blooms.”
New lovely blooms did appear. We attached festive windmills to discourage birds then sprinkled with special tomato food. I remind them every day, how much Hubby-dear loves fresh tomatoes.
One day when I went out for our daily chat, a tiny green marble-size ball appeared, then another and another.
Patience and persistence paid off. We currently have eight baby tomatoes.
Hubby-dear is counting the days until he can have a juicy slice of his first homegrown Texas tomato.
Me, I don’t even like tomatoes. Don’t eat them.
But the pleasure of watching him enjoy the red juicy fruit is priceless.