I harvested my first ripe tomato yesterday. And my five year old and I ceremoniously cut the top, sliced it in half and took a moment.

Now, I need to preface the next part by saying that I know this isn't the first thing I've grown and harvested from the garden. And while I've enjoyed the things I've harvested, it wasn't the reason I did this. My peas were great. I loved the broccoli and will plant a ton more in the fall. The lettuce I could take or leave (note to self - next time - try something other than iceberg.) Onions and garlic - couldn't taste a difference. Carrots actually tasted more bitter than store bought. But my biggest motivation with starting a SFG was always about the tomatoes. I had visions of harvesting baskets and baskets of ripe tomatoes. Canning. Freezing. The whole damn garden was built on the desire to grow enough tomatoes to be able to use all winter long. So today, with the harvest of the first tomato, was a big day...

So anyway, my five year old and I sat down with this tomato. And reflected on how long it took us to get to this point. I literally took her step by step, hoping that she can appreciate how long it took us to get here.

I reminded her of the days, when it was 20 degrees with snow on the ground that we spent pouring through catalogs to pick our seeds. Getting the seeds in the mail. The constant research and reading on when to start the seeds. Charts, diagrams and garden layouts. The coffee filters and sprouting. Seeds that didn't sprout. Re-starting seeds. Stress and tension and worrying about whether or not we would have enough tomatoes. The weeks and weeks of growing them under lights. Reminded her of how much of a pain in the ass it was to water the seeds (bad set-up - I know better for next year.)

And when they finally took off, we had to re-pot. And with that came the dirt on the kitchen floor that never seemed to go away no matter how much I vacuumed. The runs to home depot to get more shelves and more lights to accommodate the bigger plants.

Hardening off the plants. Plants in, plants out. Hour by hour for another two weeks.

I reminded her of the days of building the gardens. Digging up the grass. Buying the lumber. Putting it together. Buying the soil amendments and lugging it up to the house. My house is a flight of stairs off the road and I literally carried hundreds, if not thousands of pounds of "Mel's Mix" up these stairs. On my back. By myself. Oh yeah - and I am a single mom.

I reminded her of the days of going to my mom's for horse manure and wood chips. Bucket by bucket. Standing in poo. Shoveling it into the buckets. Then trying to hoist those buckets into the back of the car. Finally getting home and now lugging those 18 gallon buckets up to the house.

At this point in my reflection, I did realize that this garden was literally built on my blood and sweat - but never tears. As frustrating and as hard as the work was, I never broke down. As a single mom, I find that somewhat interesting. But I digress... back to the story of my tomato...

I reminded her of the day that we finally (and ceremoniously) planted the seedlings into the garden. But our work wasn't over. We had to baby them. Covering them every night to make sure they were warm until the nighttime temp's were stable.

Eventually, those little seedlings were growing and flowering. The first sign of a tomato came almost two months ago. And we watched those tomatoes grow. And grow and grow. And then they just stopped. And sat on the vines. Fully grown and green. We checked every day for signs of ripening for over six weeks until miraculously, a change of color. Just slight at first and not too much of a change.

At this point, the tomatoes redeemed themselves. I was fully expecting another two to three weeks of waiting but within a week, they were ready to go.

Which brings us back to today. Our little ceremony. I cut it in half. She took hers, I took mine. We reflected. And did a little "cheers" with our tomato halves. And ate it.

Was it a big tomato? Not by a long shot. A good variety?? Not from what I've heard. Will I get better later on in the season as my heirlooms mature? Absolutely. But did it taste good??? It was, by far, the best tomato I ever ate. That tomato took seven months, countless hours, buckets of sweat and blood. The blood? More than I care to admit. The cuts, the scrapes, the bug bites is a testament to this tomato. And it was all worth it!!!