Late, Late Harvest

We didn't always get to eat the cherry tomatoes that we grew in our backyard.

I would sometimes see a berry, nearly ripened, and tell myself that I would pick it the next day, when it would be at its peak for taking. But when I went to the vines the very next day, some critter would have already gotten to it, either taking a few nibbles or plucking the entire tomato and making off with it.

When DW and I returned from Portugal, almost all of the fruit was gone from the plant by some animal or other. Only a few small, green tomatoes were left. But in the fall, we often forget about the vines for the season, figuring that we had harvested all that we were going to get.

DW would rip out the old vines, in the spring, when it was time to plant new ones.

I didn't see them until I was looking out in our yard, last weekend, as the snow was coming down. I wanted to venture out—perhaps to a forest or along a river bank—and photograph the freshly fallen snow, but my stomach was giving me trouble and I was tired, and decided not to stray far.

But as I gazed into the backyard, wondering if I should photograph something to capture the day, something caught my attention like the light in a beacon.

Two cherry tomatoes, still attached to the now brown and shrivelled vine. Once ripened, now shrunken like deflating balloons. Without changing into boots, I stepped out into the snow with my smartphone.

Not what I was thinking of capturing on that snowy day but I'll take it. Sometimes, you have to work to find a photo opportunity: other times, they come to you.

Happy Friday!