I am simply amazed that my small patio-garden is still producing. About a month ago I walked up to the tomato plants with pruning shears in my hands and rapped on their 22-inch pots. “Okay, guys,” I said in a most apropos doctor-voice. “You are NOT going to like this!”
But one of the tomato plants managed to sneak in a profound, yet squeaky, “Hang on, Boss — I’m not through yet!” before I could position the snips at its root base. My sweet red pepper plant noticed the gleam of sunlight on blade and quickly chimed in, “Hey, take a look at this!” It raised a jumble of leaves suggestively in the chilly breeze and — by golly! — showed me a preponderance of new pepper blossoms and a host of dangling, 2-inch peppers.
I almost blushed.
All of which is to say, last night I sautéed some tasty fall tomatoes, a finely sliced red pepper, and a handful of sweet Vidalia onion chunks in some olive oil; tossed in some fresh patio rosemary and patio tarragon and a dash of crushed patio garlic, and — while piling all of it onto a mound of pasta and topping it off with some grated parmesan and Romano cheese — reflected that I’m sure glad I listened to those frantic pleas.
And just to make sure those plants remember their promise, I always carry the pruning shears in plain sight, tucked loosely in my shirt pocket.
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