There is fruit on the tomato plant. A couple weeks ago, I wrote about the effort to grow tomatoes on a balcony that gets mere minutes of sunlight each day (a little at sunrise and some before sunset).
Some experts thought the plant might grow, but the likelihood of pollination seemed bleak.
The young fruit, not ping pong ball size yet, looks pretty good and in the next week or two will let us know if there will be some fresh tomatoes in the salad for supper.
My own history of gardening was one year in Cub Scouts and our den had a small garden in the yard behind our house. That was the one and only year that my mom was Den Mother for us - back to the edict that I not quit things prematurely, I had to spend a year in Scouts before I could hang up my handkerchief.
Anyway, the garden grew and I planted pumpkins in my row. It produced a Halloween I'd never forget, as each of 13 Jack O'Lanterns were carved and lined up inside our front porch window on October 31 to welcome the little ghosts and goblins to our door.
A few times it was my job when I got old enough, to run the rotor-tiller and clear out weeds growing between the plants.
Let's just say Grandpa was patient with me.
Our plucky tomato plant moved from the mini deck to the surface of the balcony last week when strong winds threatened to make it an unplanned move.
Tommy Tomato has overachieved so far this season... we'll see if there is enough fruit to make ketchup for an order of fries.
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