And so it draws to a close. Stan and I are always sad at the sight of the field tomatoes at the end of their life cycle because there are always those ones that didn’t quite make it. So let’s immortalize them in song…

The Ballad of the Rotten Field Tomato

There are tales told of West Coast Gold
That ripens on the vine
The tomatoes sweet that we love to eat
In the lovely summer time

In the winter chill, they were seeds until
In the potting soil they lay
Under UV light that was shining bright
They began to find their way

They grew and grew, first an inch or two
And were fed and pruned with care
’Til they got so tall that they heard the call
Of the soil and the fresh spring air.

Now they heard folks say “There’s a different way
For tomatoes grown elsewhere”
All electronic and hydroponic
And no sunshine or fresh air

But for these brave plants, there are worms and ants
And weather fair and foul
There’s untimely cold and the risk of mold
And winds that whip and howl

But they still survive and begin to thrive
And the blossoms all appear
Then fruit so fine it bends the vine
Under skies so blue and clear

And the people eat of the fruit so sweet
And the bushels are overflowing
And the market place keeps a bustling pace
While the vines just keep on growing

But when autumn comes, there are still the ones
That haven’t made the grade
And the farmer’s field, once it gives its yield
Leaves fruit to fall and fade.

But though inside ones have eternal suns
And are “perfect” all year long
They are never as sweet as the fruit we eat
That are told of in my song

So though they die under chilly skies
and it seems like such a shame
We can sit and dream of a summer scene
When that flavour comes again.

See you at the North Saanich Farmers market tomorrow! With, you guessed it, field tomatoes! (among other goodies).