My Father's Tomato Plants
Every Spring my Dad would start his tomato plants from seed. He would put them in the small starter pots on the window shelf in the back room. When it was time he would plant them in the raised planter boxes he built and put on the South side of the house; It was right behind the bedroom he had built for me downstairs after I got MS. He would put tomato cages around the little plantlets so they would be supported as they grew up.
One year, I think it was 1983 - two years after my diagnosis, I put some marijuana seeds between his cages -- then I forgot about them not really thinking they would grow. Under my Dad's care, with frequent watering and a healthy dose of Miracle-Gro, topped off with a hot Summer, grow they did.
One day Dad was showing off his boxes to my cousin Mike who recognized what I had done --- he started banging on my wall as I was taking a shower! It turns out that by then my plants were as tall as the tomatoes -- as tall as the cages. I'm sure my Dad recognized the difference as well, and knew what they were, but he never said a word, which was surprising because he was in his 70's, but I was his baby girl and I'm sure he would let me get away with it most anything because of my new situation. It must have been hard for him to watch my struggles.
By August my plants surpassed his in their height and by September they were about 18" higher. My Dad was a marksman. Back in 1949 he won the National Individual Pistol Shooter's Prize at Camp Perry, Ohio. I mention this because he frequently shot at the police athletic range alongside the cops. He also reloaded the empty shells at home in our basement. From time to time, officers would come by to buy re-loads from him. I remember that they came by once that September when my plants were so high. I KNOW they saw them, still, they said nothing, knowing my situation.
One day after school started I happened to be out there when I heard a group of boys coming home from the Jr. High school that was several blocks away -- they were pointing up to the plants and saying," Look! Up there! Is that what I think it is?" It was then that I knew I had to harvest lest I lose my plants.
I ended up with a shoebox full of the leaves, and another of the stems. I boiled those with two cubes of butter since THC is fat soluble. OMG, was it fragrant! The whole house smelled. Still, neither my Mom nor my Dad said anything. Then I let it cool and skimmed off the butter and used it to make a two pans of brownies. Just right for a party or two ...
With the leaves, once dried, I ended up with a solid Zip-loc sandwich bag-full wchich, when smoked was harsh, but potent.
Street value: priceless.
Good Night, TTYL, and Be Well,
Big smiles. Sadly, you could use me as a sniffer dog. One whiff and I feel decidedly unwell.
ReplyDeleteMy father too grew tomatoes from seed. His birthday was in late November (not quite summer here) and it was always his aim to have the first tomato for his birthday. A tradition my youngest brother and I continue to this day.
Funny. :)
ReplyDeleteNow that it's legal here in Oregon, my husband is buying some salve. It has helped his ankle and knee quite a bit. Smells nasty, but the smell goes away. Either that or I have gotten used to it. :) Crisped all my nose hairs so I can't smell anymore?
oh what a nice father! Yes I have heard forever from Montel that it helps MS. Did the brownies taste good? lol
ReplyDeleteE.C.- Perhaps your un-wellness was just feeling high and not liking it. I hope your tomatoes do better than mine. By September, I'm lucky to get three or four. Maybe I should try making Fried Green Tomatoes!
ReplyDeleteAmi- I have not heard of the salve, but it's great that it gives relief from the pain; and so sorry that you crisped your nose hairs!
Kim- It relaxes the muscles quite nicely but it does nothing else for MS. Montel is not my favorite spokesman for MS. And yes, my Dad was usually gruff with many things, but I had him wrapped around my baby finger.