Tomato warrior

The skill set needed to harvest an urban tomato crop lies somewhere between rugby player, ballet dancer, and medieval warrior.

The plants, huddled closely in a phalanx of foliage, are shielded by the dewy remnant of late afternoon rain. They are ripe, ready and wet. You’re going to need steely resolve to go in there and win! Since many have fallen, you’ll just have to roll up your sleeves, wrestle with your entrenched enemy, and get dirty.

Actually quite dirty.

At the same time, the plants’ contorted postures require your best twists and turns, extended reach, and some tastefully awkward Martha-Graham-like positions. You have to dance your way through tightly clustered plants to pluck that glowing fruit.

Sometimes a tomato falls to the ground. In that moment, you must engage. Do not lose a single fruit! Save that one small cherry from the clutches of Mother Earth who strongly desires its return. Stand down, greedy Mrs. Erdmutter!

And you there – little slugs, squirrels, caterpillars, snails, birds and other small creatures: Beware! These fruits are my well-earned spoils, and I will not surrender ONE of them. (OK, maybe one or two will be an offering to the animal gods. But that’s it.)

When the struggle is finally over, bring them in. Gingerly wash their tender veggie bodies, and arrange them for the ultimate ripening, when they will roast or bake, fry or freeze, and metamorphose into their higher calling: Toronto Ambrosia. Tomato sauce.

I say a quiet thank you to the soil, the sunshine, and the rain that made this miracle happen in my garden, in the midst of a busy city otherwise full of traffic, concrete, glass and asphalt.

Delicious food grows in my little backyard oasis: that truly is a wonder.