It wasn't their fault that I neglectfully let a mama tomato fall to the ground and rot beneath the vine. Her seeds spilled out on the fertile soil and with all the sun and rain, the little fellas came to life. Their eagerness to survive tugged at my heartstrings. Yes, I have heartstrings.
But, I'm having visions of picking a fresh tomato on Christmas morning.....so, here's the deal: I'll do the best I can. If it's just too difficult to complete my task, I'll surrender. I'll let myself off the hook. I'll stay inside my warm and cozy house while the frigid winds rush past my window on their way to freeze my precious plants to death. I'll survive, even if they don't.
But, if by chance I succeed in my mission, you will hear about it. Literally. I'll be squealing with delight at the top of my lungs Christmas morning when I pick that juicy ripe tomato and snip a marigold bloom to decorate the table.
Listen for it. You'll be up early, I know.
I just hope I can keep Santa away from them...he's more of a cookie guy though, isn't he?