I was out in the cool of the morning staking up our tomato plants. We haven't had an official garden for a few years. Unofficially we've grown cherry tomatoes that come up from the compost. But tomatoes growing among the Brown-Eyed Susans or Purple Cone Flowers for the purpose of snacking, doesn't constitute a garden, officially.
But this year, I put in a garden. And most mornings I'm out there surveying all that I planted. Weeding and thinning, which is hard for me as I hate to pull any plant up that might produce fruit. I'm always thinking that even the little guy deserves a chance.
Anyway, I had forgot about the need to stake up tomato plants until last week when I noticed our's were all laying over. At first I figured that commercial tomato farmers mustn't stake up all their plants, so do I really need to. But tradition got the better of me. So this morning I dug out the old stakes from the corner of the garage, and then tore up an old white t-shirt from the manly motorcycle man.
I can remember helping my mom to stake up our families plants when I was younger. She'd hammer in the stakes while I would sit on the sidelines and rip soft cloth strips from old shirts. Then carefully and gently she'd tie up the plants so their fruit wasn't lying on the ground.
It's strange just how long familiar family ways stay with you.
Later, I was talking with my oldest about whether you can teach an adult new tricks. The Myth Busters recently showed you could teach an old dog, but can you change a person's ways? I told her no. You can't make an adult different from the way they are. They've spent their whole life being that way, and unless THEY want to change, they won't. No matter how good your argument for change is.
Just like the desire to stake tomato plants. Old habits are hard to ignore.
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