In Which We Plant Tomatoes

I planted some flowers in pots this spring, and shortly after that, my husband expressed disappointment that I hadn't planted anything we could actually EAT. So I told him the next time I had a chance, I'd look for tomato plants. 

Well, on this day, we went to Walmart, and I actually remembered. And I DID find a few tomato plants. They looked a little on the small side, and their pots were dry as toast, but they were only about $2 apiece, so I took pity on them, and rescued three. Two are big beef plus, and one is better boy plus. 

We crave those gorgeous, delicious, big, red beefsteak tomatoes. My husband and I both adore them. My father used to grow the best-tasting tomatoes (we called them "Lee-maters!"), so as of about July and August, we'd drive down and raid his garden. Alas, my father is not growing tomatoes anymore, at least not on Planet Earth. So, tomato-wise, I'm an orphan girl. Clearly, I must take matters into my own hands. And I shall do it. Watch me now!

When I got home, I wanted to get the little ones into more and better dirt, and watered, as soon as possible. So out we went into the heat, which I'm sure THEY will love. The Moose and Tiny Tiger oversaw my efforts and helped me plant them; we did it with so much love! The little tomato plants are in pots on the front steps, freshly watered. Now, let's hope they GROW!

I couldn't decide between these two songs, so here they both are. First is Jakob Dylan, with Will It Grow. Second is Fontella Bass, with Rescue Me.