Freeze. Death. Survival.
It's hard to explain the simple joy a fresh tomato brings to my lovely wife.
No mater how many times I coax fresh produce out of my impossibly tiny garden, she is always
enthusiastic and overjoyed to consume these fresh morsels.
This morning was like going to a funeral.
One by one, as we removed the tarps covering the tomato plants, the reality of three cold days set in.
The garden grim reaper took his pound of flesh and disappeared into a beautiful day.
The full extent of the damage won't present itself for a few more days, but most of the plants
will turn to mush. A few lucky vines survived, so maybe we can get just a few more
morsels before the next freeze,
My wife is crossing her fingers.