Not Only Tomatoes

  I came across some poems I wrote a few years ago.  I've retitled this one from "Artificial Flowers," to "Loss" which seems more appropriate.  I rearranged words and lines but it's essentially the same -- this is not a new problem I have been dealing with.

 Loss

Artificial flowers are tacky.

Real flowers are available

In the nearby grocery store.

They are not expensive…but

Their vague scent disappoints the nose.

They will soon droop from jet lag

For they have flown from Peru or Chile

Mexico, Florida or Israel, refrigerated.

They have been bred to near artificiality

Like the tomatoes and strawberries—

So pretty, so tasteless, so disappointing

To the tongue’s eager taste buds,

Filling the mouth with the texture

And blandness of cardboard.

I no longer buy so-called fresh flowers

And rarely am tempted by visual

Perfection: the round, red beauty

Of flavorless apples, or the hard as rocks,

So tempting, juiceless, unripe peaches.

I have stopped picking wild flowers.

They are living things,

As yet untainted by commerce.

They deserve to die a natural death

In the fields of their birth.

I crave old fashioned fruits and flowers.

I miss them and, yes, I know

My artificial roses and cyclemen

 Are truly tacky—

At least they are not molded plastic.

They are real silk.

Well…maybe they are…

Polyester?

Beautiful Tomatoes

Aren't they beautiful!  Look at that rich red!  I just read a small bit in today's NYTimes that says genetic scientists have found (only now?) that the gene they added or enhanced to give tomatoes that beautiful color had another function -- guess what? No surprise to most of us -- it turned off a sugar making function that is necessary to give tomatoes the wonderful taste that those of us who are old enough remember.

It's a case of choosing beauty over substance -- I immediately thought of all those airbrushed photos of celebrities giving them such perfect skin, such perfect curves.  The sad part of the tomato story is that the gene changes are so pervasive it is almost impossible to find tomatoes that haven't been genetically modified.  If you're willing to play a lot of money and can find a farmer's market where heirloom tomatoes are sold you might find some with that lovely flavor.  But there a great differences in the heirloom tomatoes -- I've tried them.  Some are good, some are as uninteresting to eat as the ones in the supermarket.  Can anyone tell me an instance when commerce has chosen to keep something honest and natural when they can change a product, especially a food, to make it prettier?  And can anyone tell me why so many people think that something pretty is going to be superior to something a little less pretty?  Don't tell me about survival of the fittest being based on prettiest, it's just not true.

Fresh Produce

This is a purchased tomato which looks wonderful. It was not wonderful; it's barely adequate in taste. Too bad taste buds can't be trumped by eye appeal. Alas! No way. I have given up in the search for a tomato that tastes like those of my girlhood.
These are only one bunch of three bunches and more flowers promising more little tomatoes on my once tiny plant. They are either cherry or plum tomatoes not fat round ones like their hothouse cousin above but I despair that they will ever be red. Today is August 1, the sun is bright, it finally feels like summer. June and July were more like May should have been only wetter and much grayer even than, say, March. So the plant grew big, attractive in its way like a hunk with a gym-made body; but whatever goodness [brains for the hunk] has yet to be seen.

Should have made the picture below larger -- it's a sign I loved a Coonamesset Farm where Rachel and I went to see what their system is. Can one come and pick fruit and vegetables? Is the price good? Yes, one can for an $8 entry fee and then the cost per pound of the fruit or veggies is not much different than grocery store. No bargain though it's probably fresh and delicious. However the sign brought a smile -- a vegetarian buffet ... good, with pulled pork ... huh?

I'm Gardening, sort of

I am not a gardener and do not wish to be a gardener -- it was a chore when I was growing up -- hoeing weeds in long rows of vegetables. My mother did not grow flowers except for trying to grow dahlias, her favorite, always with little success and some frustration. I was not primed to enjoy gardening and I don't. But I like flowers, mainly on other people's property.

Now that I live in a flower rich town, I feel the need of doing my token bit since I also have a token kind of patio. There were two hooks for hanging flower pots so my Mother's Day gift was two pots of red geraniums which flowered beautifully then had a dormant spell and which are again flowering abundantly and are quite beautiful. An entirely adequate token, I think.
One day Rachel arrived with a big pot holding a little tomato plant. I was told by friend, Jan, to douse it liberally in the mornings and give it Miracle-Gro every few days. I have done so. This photo was taken only about 10 days ago and as of today it is much taller and fuller and one tiny green globe promises to become a tomato as do a few yellow flowers. Actually it looks like it's going to be more ornamental than fruit bearing. But what do I know? Close to nothing. So we'll see.