This morning when I went to do my daily watering of the plant box, I was surprised in mid-spray when I noticed that my two most beautiful ripe red tomatoes had disappeared. So much was my shock that I continued to spray away, all the while, trying to crouch lower for a better look.
As if on autopilot, I proceeded through my own abbreviated version of the stages of grief.
First, Denial. Maybe the tomatoes are actually hiding behind the green foilage. That must be it, over the course of 24 hours in the 110 degree scorching Las Vegas heat, the tomato plant in question underwent supersonic leaf growth enough to completely obscure two beautiful, bright red tomatoes about 3 inches in diameter.
Second, Anger - other party directed. That pesky rabbit. It must have been him that managed to climb/leap over our 4 foot plastic fencing (which was intact) and absconded with our perfect tomatoes. I don't know why just yesterday I thought he was a cute furry creature that greeted me each morning by scurrying into the nearest corner to hide and then running off when my back was turned. If that little critter was here now, he would most definitely be the target of spray from my hose at its highest setting.
Third, Anger - self directed. Why didn't I pick the tomatoes sooner? I knew they were ripe for picking several days ago. I was just biding my time, waiting for the perfect moment to pick them. Well now there is no need to wait for the perfect time, as some unknown rodent/pest has decided that for me.
Fourth, Depression. Oh, it is just so sad. Two perfect tomatoes. Time, energy, water, anticipation - completely wasted. Gone. What a sad start to the day.
Fifth, Acceptance. Ah, such is life. Lesson learned - pick tomatoes when they are ripe enough. Who knows if it was the rabbit. Maybe it was a bird. After all, the soil around the plants was not disturbed at all. Whichever creature it was, it clearly made good use of the tomatoes to satisfy its hunger or thirst, as the fruit was picked clean to the stem with just a tiny speck of red color left dangling on the end. So my efforts were not in vain after all, since it contributed to the survival of another creature for yet another day. That being said, tomorrow I'll have to figure out a way to tie the tops of the fencing together to keep out uninvited guests.
What a beautiful garden we have and how lucky we are to have it.
Ten minutes over. Time to get to work.
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