Less than nine weeks ago I planted 15 little, itty-bitty tomato plants. They were about 6 inches high. The tomato plants were so small, that when the weather got a bit chilly in early May, I was able to cover them with ice cream buckets. You know the four quart kind, with the handle, that your family can demolish in a single weekend if you would only let them? But you don’t because you are a Responsible Adult. The buckets I then use to freeze large amounts of soup in, because I’m too cheap to buy tupperware. Those buckets.
Today, the tomato plants are over four feet tall.
So. Many. Tomatoes.
The tomato plants also have lots of tiny yellow flowers that will turn into additional green tomatoes. Because evidently these plants have type A, over-achiever personalities.
I figure these plants will produce, at a minimum, ten tomatoes each. At a MINIMUM. So using my trusty multiplication skills, that means barring hail storms, attacks of locust, or pillaging wildlife, I will harvest at least 150 tomatoes. At MINIMUM. (I keep silently shouting that word in my head, it’s the shock, I’m sorry.)
So. You know what they say to do when life hands you 150 tomatoes, don’t you? Make salsa! (And spaghetti sauce. And soup. And bruschetta. And pretty much any other tomato recipe you want, because good night nurse, there are going to be 150 of them. At MINIMUM.)
Pray for me friends. They’re almost ripe.