Tomatoes

I was just thinking about my mom this morning.
 
I was thinking about her because I miss her.  In fact, I think of her every day – in some way.
 
And now I have the garden box I bought at Home Depot. Mama and I used to go to Home Depot all the time together to buy plants and tools and look around. She loved making friends with the employees and was so proud to tell them of her grandson, my son, Jordan, who would “one day run the place.”  Yes, she actually said that.  

And so, in her last year of life, I bought a garden box for her at Home Depot. I didn’t know she wouldn’t live even a year after I bought it, but I’m so glad I did.  She wanted to plant tomatoes … as she had done her whole life.
 
And now? In that box, I’m gathering tomatoes from plants I didn't plant. Yes, in October. Why? Because of seeds she put in the dirt before she died.
 
I brought the garden box home when we were cleaning out her things. My sister helped me – she knew how important it was to me.
 
I had long taken out the dead tomato plants after a flourishing spring season with Mama and replaced them with pansies as the weather turned cooler.  I loved seeing the pansies bloom and grow.  So did Mama.  She got to watch them grow well into the fall of 2023.  She died December 27 of that year. 
 
So, when the pansies died, I just had to bring the box home – dirt and all.
 
When I first brought it to my house, I placed the box on my porch but then decided to move it to the back patio –  and clean out the last of the dead stuff.  My plan was to purchase new plants.
 
Then a few days later, I noticed sprouts.  Tomato sprouts.
 
Oh, my goodness.  It reminded me of a time when I was in a craze of having brie cheese on flat whole-grain crackers with a slice of tomato for lunch. 
 
Back then, I was thinking how cool it would be if I had a garden, like the ones my siblings and I grew up hating to weed - but a garden that boasted fresh green beans, radishes, tomatoes, cucumbers, watermelons, butter beans, green peppers, hot peppers, squash, and all kinds of fresh things.
 
 A garden, sigh  – I’ve had a few over the years, but I was never good at it like Mama.
 
My mother just stuck her thumb in the dirt and out came beautiful and edible things.  Didn’t matter if it was camellias, roses, forsythias, azaleas, pear trees, peach trees, blueberry bushes . . . or string beans.
 
 In fact, I think she just looked out of her window and imagined a garden of vegetables or a yard full of blooms and wow, they appeared.  Or she wiggled her nose in Samantha fashion or blinked her eyes in Jeannie fashion and poof, a watermelon rolled to her back door.  And not just any old watermelon . . . but a red juicy perfectly ripe one.  I mean dead of winter and she would have fresh tomatoes.  I mean brown grass, but she would have green. I know I’m embellishing but still …how did she do it?
 
I don’t know but after I grew up, I sure loved driving to Mama and Daddy’s farm any time of the year and see the work of her hands and the literal fruit of her labors.  I loved hearing her tell the stories of Granddaddy McKay planting the blueberry bushes and the pear tree.  I loved following her around in the yard when I was a child while she planted and nurtured whatever she put in the dirt.  I remember when she planted the pine trees behind our house, they were just little saplings then and I asked, “How long before they are big like the ones in the woods?”  She looked at me, “Oh you’ll be all grown up by then.”  I thought I'd never be all grown up.
 
I loved seeing the light in her eyes when she talked about the camellias and her little garden next to the barn - the one that used to be Granddaddy McKay’s country store.  I even liked seeing her coffee can compost bucket in the kitchen – and all her little seedlings on the windowsill.  I especially liked her cheerful, happy heart.
 
She was always that way - ready with a quick smile and a huge hug and . . . fresh stewed tomatoes.
 
Yes, I was thinking about Mama this morning.  I was thinking how cool it would be if I could show her my tomatoes – no, HER tomatoes - the ones she planted.
 
But I have something even better.  I have a mom who not only grew a garden full of tomatoes but she grew a little girl into a grown woman who fears the Lord.  My mom was faithful to put her thumb in the dirt of my life and there she nurtured me and watched me grow.
 
Just last week, my daughter sent this text to me, “You are her greatest achievement.  She would be so proud of you.”  I hope so.

I know she'd be proud of those tomatoes.

This is one of the employees my mom met ...
that's my mom's arm and purse you can see.