Ripe tomatoes

When it looks like this outside, that's when I know. It's that time of year. That beautiful time of year when my tomatoes have finally ripened.


{home sweet home}

Not all of them, though. Most of the Long Keepers will hang around in our basement until February. It's my revenge on a frigid prairie winter. One of those things that doesn't matter too much, but it makes me feel better anyway.

I did what I had to do. I picked them green.

When we lived 120 miles north of here, I grew the most beautiful red tomatoes every year. But now, practically in a whole gardening sub-zone warmer, I can hardly grow more than a handful of red tomatoes. But really, I've come to expect nothing less from my mysterious sunken swamp of a garden. It holds many secrets. How, exactly, to grow red tomatoes is one of them.

So I picked buckets and baskets and bags of green tomatoes.

But now!



Some of these are an heirloom variety Large Red Cherry Tomatoes, and some are my precious Principe Borghese, the tomato that lives to be dried. Once again, I was really impressed with myself, because after they came into the house I had no idea which was which. Yay me.

One basket went to the basement and one got stuck in the entryway.

Our sneaky little Bean grabbed the best one she could find and squished it into my shoe.



When you're in a really big hurry to get out of the house, it's fabulous to stick your socked foot into squishy wet seedy tomato pulp.

Fabulous.



Anyway, I did what every good gardener would do. I dumped them all together (but not the squished shoe tomato).


{I was working with some horrific light here, so give me a break}

Truly, no photograph can do these gorgeous little gems justice. You'll just have to trust me.



And they really do turn blazing bright red while they dry.