I am the world's laziest gardener. Several years ago (three? four, maybe?) I invested a fair chunk of change in building materials and put together a couple of Earthtainers. Oh, wait! I think I blogged about it at the time--yup, here they are, with bonus picture of Our Dog Pepper. Awww, Pepper. What a sweet dog.
Anyway, I'm still using those original containers (MacGyvered out of faux-Rubbermaid) and every year I throw a few plants in the recycled soil along with some fertilizer and hope for the best. This year I did my throwing-in so very late that the greenhouse across the street was closing out its stock and all I had to choose from was yellow cherry tomatoes. (Are they still cherry tomatoes if they're yellow and not red?)
"You'll like them, though," the greenhouse guy promised. "They're really sweet."
At close-out prizes my investment was $1.48 so I planted them. I also water them whenever I think of it (every four or five days or so) and last week my four plants turned into the little tomatoes who could. I walked into the backyard after a few days of neglect and there were dozens of little yellow fruit on the vine.
I popped one off the stem and the greenhouse guy was right--these are like eating juicy, nutritious candy.
This morning I realized hat I was the Little Red Hen of this operation. I was the one who made the containers, I was the one who purchased the plants, I was the one who planted the plants and water the plants and care for the plants.
So this morning as I watered I ate every single ripe tomato directly off the vines. (Oh, don't look at me like that--I picked the bowlful in above two days ago, so there were only a dozen or so ready and they were small.)
I did not regret my spur-of-the-moment foraging one bit. For an old farm girl like me, that faint taste of tomato leaves mixed with warm juice running down my chin? It's living the dream.