Yesterday morning, the mama, the husband, and I picked tomatoes at a local organic farm. It was having one of its few U-pick days for the season. We discovered this opportunity a couple of years ago. We don't pick a lot of tomatoes. Just enough to freeze to last us until the next growing season. For us, that's about 25 to 30 pounds, which is about equivalent to what the Mama used to get from her tomato plants. With each year, the yield has gotten less, so finding a place to get a deal for organic tomatoes is really perfect.
This year, the Mama wanted to tag along for the picking. She doesn't like to go out much so it made the adventure an extra treat. She was really enjoying herself out there amongst the rows of tomatoes, plunked in the warm sun on her green plastic bench from home. The Mama had worked her whole life in agriculture—first on her family's farm in the Philippines and then on other people's farms and with seed companies here. Now, she gardens. Nurturing vegetables and fruits for everyone else to eat is in her blood.
The mama, the husband, and I worked different parts of the tomato field. Funny, how that happened. Also, good. We each were in our own zone of quietness and comfort, enjoying some solitude knowing each other was only several long rows away.
It was a wonderful day.