We thought it was dead.

We bought this tomato plant shortly after moving in to our new place in Fairfax. It was kind of a consolation prize; I'd originally bought DH seed packets for Valentine's Day, thinking this more productive than most traditional Valentine's Day presents. And it would have been, but we weren't ready to handle seed germination. So I brought home a tomato plant; it was about a foot tall when we first got it.

We could water it first with a pepsi bottle. Then a 2-liter pepsi bottle as it grew. Then it needed a bucket. By July, it was almost as tall as we were, and it produced about 20 wonderful tomatoes before it fell ill. Spider mites had gotten hold of it, blistering it, dehydrating it, killing it.

Honestly, we'd just given up on it. It didn't produce any new tomatoes during August or September. The July ones ripened and were tasty, but as the blight took over the plant, we watched it wither, helpless. But prune we did, pulling away the blighted stems and clearing what we could from the stems that didn't look totally brown yet.

One day in late September, though, we saw new growth along some of the less ravaged stems. The plant was fighting! New flowers took, opened, swallowed, and formed into those familiar, pea-sized tomato buds. We thought it would be consumed by the blight, too, but oh, the green: We now have 8 young tomatoes, racing against the curtain of frost that may fall within a few weeks:

Just because something looks like it may be in the throes of destruction, there may yet be more fruit to yield. Don't give up on things just because they look overwhelming or beyond repair. Life, like love, fights to go on, and the joy you feel when renewal and healing come to pass is sustenance for the soul.

Where there is sickness, whether of heart, mind, soul, or tomato plant, let us offer prayers of healing, and let us give thanks for the blessings that health, balance, and growth bestow.


on a more positive note…

I have a new dining room that is a veritable dining room now. pictures soon. dean and i sat down and had dinner together. K would have joined us but for the fact that he scarfed his down faster than I could finish making ours. it was quesadilla night, and K's being just cheese was easier to fix. but still. the old dining room table is now the computer table. I think we need to rearrange the whole apartment, but the dining room is really looking superfab.

I haven't had my own dining room since I lived with J-hon, and even that wasn't anything like this.

I'm reading a history of the reformation by Diarmaid McCullough, and Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom on the fiction side of things. Lo! She has rediscovered her book gene!!!

Our tomato plant and pepper plant are very productive. Now if the dern veggies would *ripen.*

ok, i'm calmed down. really, it's not that i'm easily offended; it's just really easy to make me blush when TMI gets passed along the pike. I know where to expect it on my flist, and that doesn't generally bother me; i've got ALL images with placeholders so that nothing blatant shows up without my clicking on it. but i do get weirded out by it on my own journal. some of you from the phillygoth days may remember just how bent out of shape I got when Rob invoked my sex life on it, and even I knew it was a joke. and i know i will never live down the dummytown thread where i freaked out over a thread on STDs because I felt that people were making fun of a public health problem that needs to be taken seriously. I'm not good at taking jokes about pr0n or myself-as-sexual-entity. Issues? Sure. I just know what I can handle gracefully, and what makes me turn into a paranoid shrew.

But I appreciate your apologies and know that none of you meant to make me all discombobulated. I guess I just needed to say, hey, I'm a close-the-blinds kind of gal.