Thursday, June 19, 2014

Tomato debate

Our tomatoes made it through the storm.

A drop in the bucket

Monday night was a blustery one. At dusk the sky turned into a fight between fire orange and blood red hues, battling it out in a vibrant fashion. The colors from the sunset radiated bright light across thick, low-hanging clouds resting just above the western skyline.

For a brief time, the world looked like an impressionist painting.

Then the winds rolled in. Warm, heavy gales turned up every leaf on every tree. The humidity still hung in the air, but now it was rushing around and smacking into things like a linebacker. The treetops danced to some silent yet violent song, with a heavy yet extraordinarily inconsistent bass beat.

We were already in bed by the time everything reached a fever pitch. Airbursts smacked against the walls of our house, making the four walls shudder and groan. I kept waiting for the sound of thunder to roll out of the blackness but it never came, only bright flashes of light on the interior walls thanks to the heat lightening without.

That’s when Bec mentioned the tomatoes. “Do you think they’ll be alright out there?” she asked.

All our poor little tomato plants, potted and sitting in the wind-swept yard. I lay in bed, wondering what the right answer was. Should I run out and usher them into the garage for the night? They’ve been coming along so nicely this spring and to see them snapped in half the next morning would be just terrible...

Eventually we resolved to let them be and see how they faired. After all, should they have been planted in the ground it would be out of my hands anyway. I reasoned a tomato plant is a plant and it knows how to survive a little wind and rain. Well, that and I was very tired.

“Roll with the punches,” I mumbled to the plants from safe within the four creaking walls.

Upon thorough inspection the following morning, all seven plants received a clean bill of health. I’ll admit I gave myself a little pat on the back for rolling the dice and getting it right. Granted, should storm and I cross paths again, chances are good I’ll have the same internal debate once more.

Should this life-altering decision forcibly wedge its way between me and sleep once again, I’ll just have to trust my intuition on that given day. Sometimes a definitive outcome is simply not in the cards.

Of course, the tomato/storm example may not be the direst of situations, but it is easy to digest. This little incident is only a drop in the bucket of my life, but if the bucket isn’t filled with drops, what do I have? Now I know one more thing I did not know before - not to be worried about the plants.

Trivial? Perhaps.

Really my intent is to learn these things at an early age so I might someday offer what I’ve learned to somebody else. I’m still working on what I want to be when I grow up. Maybe I end up being a tomato farmer, who knows.

See you out there,
A woodsman in training.

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