Only six months...

until I can have another homegrown tomato.

You should be very impressed that I didn't burst into tears as I typed that.  I certainly thought about it.

Larry and I went out to a great restaurant last night, The Fireplace, in Brookline.  They cook seasonally, so roasted root vegetables, hearty braises, and cheesy soups and polentas are all over the menu right now.  Dinner was wonderful.  But it was missing a certain something...

I'm embracing the season.  Really.  In fact, winter has been quite loveable this year, treating us gently and to a lot of sunshine.  I've found a new chili/stew that I adore--Butternut Squash, Black Bean, and Beef, and I've braised up a storm.

But I can't grow tomatoes.  And I really, really want to be growing tomatoes.

I take some comfort in the fact that I'll be starting seeds indoors soon, and for the first time I'm going to attempt tomatoes from seed.  I'm also hedging my bets, and I bought some seedlings (I'm no fool).  It will be good to have my hands in the dirt, and have plants to fuss over, unlike the sturdy houseplants we have that need no fuss.

But, heavens.  I'm still six months away from a homegrown tomato!

I think I'll go drown my sorrows in jar of the straight-up sauce I put by last summer, and continue to muddle through somehow.