Garden
The tomato that refused July
Everything else bolted. This one waited until I had almost given up on it.
Astrid Voss
I planted too many again. By midsummer the greenhouse smelled of wet earth and the kind of heat that makes you forget why you went in. Most of the plants did what they were told. One stayed small and sulked against the glass.
I almost pulled it. Then a fruit showed up in August, green for a week, then a colour I don't have a name for. Not supermarket red. Something closer to a bruise.
What I did with it
I ate it over the sink. Salt. No plate. If you wait that long for one tomato, you don't share it with a salad.
