My tomatoes have been suspiciously quiet lately. Oh, the two cherry tomatoes (including the weed, which I actually pulled up a couple of weeks ago because I didn’t like the tomatoes that much, but that hasn’t stopped the pre-existing ones from ripening) are still firing off their tiny tangy ammunition, but I haven’t gotten a Brandywine or a Cherokee Purple or a Celebrity in a long time. It’s a little sad–but then, I’m still contemplating the various uses of cherry tomatoes, so it’s not all bad.

I was picking some cherries from aforementioned weed and noticed the neighbors’ tomato plants were doing well. Very well. So well, in fact, that they had climbed the supports the neighbors had leaned against our shared fence (with my permission) and were draping themselves all over my side of the fence.

And then I noticed the tomatoes on these plants. Big yellow tomatoes. Small, fuzzy tomatoes. Dark tomatoes. I think I live next to heirloom tomato growers.

Some of those tomatoes looked almost ready, and a couple of them, unseen from their angle through the thick foliage but visible from mine because of the fence, had fallen and rotted, which was a shame. I was tempted to reach over the fence and take some of the ripe ones. Only there’s no need to steal; these neighbors offered me any tomatoes (or cucumbers, or zucchini–I wonder if their cucumbers died like mine have?) I wanted several weeks ago, and all I have to do is ask.

Now I have to wait for them to be outside the same time I am. Or wait for the green tomatoes from their plants, hanging over my side, to ripen…

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