Tomatoes and Tomatoes and Tomatoes…

… creep in their petty pace to ripeness.  For yes!  Today is the day, a bit like Apple Day in the US, when Tomatoes starts up again.  In case you weren’t listening the first time I told you, Tomatoes is so-called because once a child misheard the name of the Church of the Martyrs and called it ‘the church of the Tomatoes’.  This was before our time so I don’t know who it was, but the story has become apocryphal and not only are we summoned to breakfast with a big Tomato sign, but also on church holiday there is a big flag on our part of the beach with a tomato on it.

But! my tomatoes – or most of them – remain stubbornly green; and it’s the first week of September.  I have cut back the buddleia and stuck some of the blooms in a vase where they promptly wilted, though it is interesting to look at them up close and observe that in the middle of each purple flower there is a tiny red spot.  Perhaps that, as well as the smell and pollen, is what attracts so many butterflies – in the summer they are covered with peacocks and red admirals.  By the way, am I wrong to think that red admirals were once endangered?  I seem to remember thinking they were very rare when I was a child.

I’m pleased with what I’ve done in our small yard: we have tomatoes, potatoes, a pond, some shrubs – and three compost bins.  I am currently rationalising the compost as it was threatening to take over the entire area, as David Crosby once said about his hair:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u4YpqRPLIWc

And how true.

We also have some wild strawberries which I ate as soon as they ripened and which were like tiny, cold clouds on the tongue.

Yesterday I wrote a short story about school television programmes.  There is a lot of talk at the moment about the imminent death of TV, which makes me think more than ever about returning to our oral traditions; to the old, bardic ways.  I feel very strongly connected to this, and I think I always did, ever since junior school when I would gather the children together in the playground and tell them a story.

So today I guess I shall be mostly attacking what remains of the compost.  And going to Tomatoes, of course:

http://www.freshexpressions.org.uk/stories/tomatoes

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