Mystery solved

Right before the first snowfall of this winter, I discovered a tiny, shivering tomato plant at the back end of the garden, squashed in among the tall grasses. How in the blazes did it get here?, I wondered, as it was miles (in tomato seed spreading distance capability) from the mature vines, that had already been cut down and composted. I potted it up and brought it inside, moving it around constantly to find the best sun exposure during these dark months.

Squirrels are the culprits, I think. They were harvesting tomatoes all summer long and must have dropped one. This past summer they proved to be quite the little gardeners; digging up cilantro and basil seeds from pots and randomly depositing them all over the garden. Apparently, they have an incredible memory for where they buried food. How disappointing it must be to find that the seed you had stashed turned into a seedling, and is no longer fit for your consumption. 

It's turns out to be a cherry tomato! Yay, but we'll have to arm wrestle for this single, ripe one.

It's a dreary day, this Thanksgiving of 2020 and I know lots of people are experiencing sadness about the weird, distanced way they have to celebrate this one. As Mr. M puts it so eloquently, albeit a bit unsympathetically: "better weird than dead". Folks are very creative though; one family I know will be calling in to eat together via Zoom (Zoom and consume) 

It hasn't been a good week for news about my animal loves. A reunion in Texas with Carmen won't be happening, she died in her sleep. Tests revealed that my neighbor buddy Cooper has a very aggressive cancer in his brain. The thing is, I feel just as sick about it and sad as if they were my own.