"Red, rotten, eaten, green, red, almost red, split, split, green..."
The summer life cycle ends when the first real fall rains fall. It feels like a death, because ... it is. I've been taking care of these early girls for months, first making their beds, then planting, trimming, tying, watering, harvesting, eating and, finally, clearing them away. At the beginning of August I had to lop their tops off, telling them to stop forming new green baby tomatoes and ripen what they got. It felt like eugenics. From August into October we ate fresh, juicy tomatoes every day. Now the vines are wilted and yellow, a few sad, ruined offerings clinging to their tips, either split, rotten, worm-eaten or green.
I admit their care was not always my first priority. I did so much else, got involved in my own life and fun. So much that I forgot to blog. Don't get me wrong; I thought about blogging. I had ideas. I have stubs of brilliance saved all over the place, waiting to take final form, but I don't know where to begin again. It seems I can't continue the implied narrative these entries spin together without some nod to the dark period, some kind of summer rundown to bring us all up to speed.
Really it's throwing me off too, as I use these entries and the drafts that precede them as a pseudo-diary, to help me remember what I've done. I have to keep logging my memories, or else they crowd into the front of my brain and I lose the big picture of where I am and what I'm doing. All organization escapes me because I don't know where I've come from or where I've been. Well, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit, but I do need some kind of memory purge before I can provide more of this quality entertainment. Soon.