You say tomato...

I planted our tomatoes in April, and they're looking good already.  Back in Ohio, that probably sounds early, but here in the banana belt they thrive on the south wall of the house.  In pots, they need water almost every day, plus fertilizer, which turns into a fairly labor-intensive operation. 

You might wonder why a decent gardener doesn't plant her vegetables in the ground? Well, there isn't any sunny bed space left in this yard-- every inch is hogged up with overgrown perennials and assorted invasive species.

Each spring I always buy two tomato starts:  a Roma and a Cherry. One for her, one for him. We get a nice little crop by September, unless the summer is truly dismal.  I could eat a hundred ripe cherry tomatoes a day while I'm fiddling around outside, but John can somehow walk by a plant without cramming one in his mouth. 

He's suspicious of any tomato that isn't round and red. On impulse I bought a third start this year because of the wonderful name, Indigo Rose.  If it ripens, it will look something like an eggplant or potato.  Heirloom tomatoes are the big thing now, but weird shape and color alone doesn't always make them worth the inflated price. I've bought some that were kind of mealy and tasteless.  So the jury is out on Indigo.