By this time last year, we had had a killing frost. I took a big chance that wouldn’t happen this year, and the benefits thereof I’m about to reap.
My goal was much different last spring when I got an early start on the tomato growing season. My dad could usually produce a ripe tomato by July 4. His record was June 28.
I was growing two tomato plants in large pots. They sat out during the day. At night, I would drag them into the garage if there was any danger of frost or freeze. My reward was three ripe tomatoes on June 21.
Unfortunately, the beanfield next door was sprayed with a herbicide and the drift killed my tomato plants. At the end of June, I pulled the dead plants and planted a pack of seeds. While my dad was the king of early tomatoes, his brother, my uncle Carter, was the stalwart of late tomatoes. Uncle had the advantage of living but five miles north of the Ohio River, which usually added a couple of weeks to the growing…