By the middle of August, the tomato plant had only coughed up three tiny, tough-skinned babies. Still, it was a marvel to us to watch something -- anything -- move from seed to bearing fruit, so we would go out every evening after work just to check on those three little green globes, to praise them and water them and urge them along. Finally, during the last week of the Olympics, they were ready to eat.
And now, it's the beginning of September. The State Fair is underway and I'm dying to have Food on a Stick, and suddenly we have three dozen baby tomatoes, with more buds threatening to sprout. Just like everything else in this life, the timing is completely off, and I'm wondering if we'll be able to harvest any of the newest fruit before it cools down.