Grand
by Steven Gowin
The garden grew tomatoes.
A prodigious cherry tomato plant where I lived in college.
On those hot Iowa mornings before the sticky air became unbearable, often after a night of a bit too much beer to cool off, we'd throw on a pair of cutoffs and tee shirt and stumble out to pop a few of those cherry tomatoes into our mouths straight off the vine.
If it had rained the previous evening, the whole thing was even better. We hadn't planted that plant or fertilized it or done anything except pop them into our mouths.
The garden's fruit was grand.
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"We hadn't planted that plant or fertilized it or done anything except pop those suckers into our mouths."
Nice sliver of time, Steven. I like it.
I love this. I also love cherry tomatoes and am growing a couple plants along with many different herbs. I love how they explode in your mouth and I think you have written a story that explodes a bit too. Good work. *
Love this little cherry tomato outing.
The opening and closing lines perfectly frame this piece. Nice writing, Steve *
I can see the little old lady coming out to the garden with her little white dog, noting that yet more tomatoes are missing from the plant. She'd counted them the night before and saw that ravaged fruit neither hung tagged from the vine, nor in tatters in the bed, so it wasn't the crows. She looks at her little white dog who looks up to her in puzzlement and cocks his fox-like head. She whispers.... "Communists."
Love this Steve. ******
Sweet as a cherry tomato.
*
Love the tale, love JLD's comment, wondering which college--I lived in Davenport several years.
Almost paradise. (love JLD's comment, too). *