Tomato Plants

No likes yet ♦

I reach out
rub a leaf between my forefinger
and thumb

what a smell they give
these tomato plants

It’s two in the afternoon
I’m in boxers on the balcony
the sunshine
is fresh out of the packet
extreme light
coats everything in view

I feel so very far away
from the garden where I grew up
and yet that scent
knocks me out

a transportation system for the soul

in an instant
I’m holding the watering can
with my dad

I could be five or six
or seven
and I’m in the presence of something ordinary
something fantastic...

his tomato plants

Stood before them
caring, cooing
cajoling tiny red droplets
each one
packed full of bursting flavour
seeds stuck on the tongue
a fleshy red skin
that could encapsulate
a whole summer

my summer
and all the summers of my youth

those school holidays that stretched
and ran
as far
as the impossible blue sky
the light
creeping through the curtains
sidestepping sleep
covers pushed back
in the crawling, cramping
heat

the excitement in the morning
the quiet in the afternoon
the swallows
crying over the back lane before bed
and
helping dad
water the garden

I reach out and touch another leaf
close my eyes
soak it up

they hurt when I finally open them

fuzz fades
then becomes healthy green vines
I search
looking out for tiny yellow flowers
drooping
with the weight
of a new green baby

I feel so very far away
from being that boy
and yet
with one breath
a simple swift inhalation
I am that boy again

sure,
it’s brief

but no less vivid

Discuss this piece in the abctales forum


Comments

Luly Whisper | July 31, 2012 - 22:08

I can just picture it. I like growing tomatoes and eating them straight from the bush. And yes, such a distinctive scent.

jolono | August 1, 2012 - 08:07

Great poem TUH, strange how a smell can conjure up images of times gone by. Great read.

the unfolding head | August 1, 2012 - 08:32

certainly is LW. I always thought that they tasted different too, when picked straight from the bush. This is my first attempt at growing my own tomatoes and I'm really enjoying it - my girlfriend has named the plant 'Golden Boy' :D

the unfolding head | August 1, 2012 - 08:38

thanks jolono. It's crazy isn't it, how a smell can instantly transport you. I find it's one of the most beautiful experiences - almost as if your mind just needs a little nudge to be able to bring back the smallest details of a place or person, that maybe had seemed long gone, never to return. Just realised talking about this, that about a year ago I wrote a similar poem when my boss walked into work wearing the exact same perfume that my school sweetheart used to wear - (titled 'Clinique Happy Revised' I think). Thanks for reading.

Rhiannonw | August 1, 2012 - 08:56

I liked "those school holidays that stretched
and ran as far as the impossible blue sky" and
"the excitement in the morning
the quiet in the afternoon
the swallows crying over the back lane before bed"
– evocative of the memories of youth's summers.
Rhiannon

Ed Crane | August 1, 2012 - 09:14

I love the smell of tomato plants and tomatoes on the vine. You captured your childhood through their smell I think that's great. For some reason Bread pudding does it for me.
BTW, don't forget to pinch out the fifth set ;)

Ed Crane | August 1, 2012 - 09:28

sorry posted it twice

the unfolding head | August 1, 2012 - 10:46

thanks Rhiannon, kind of you to pick out those lines. It was a really uplifting feeling writing out this poem, trying to capture as best as possible what those summers were all about. It's always great to recieve positive feedback, appreciate it.

the unfolding head | August 1, 2012 - 10:48

thanks bexley. It's a great smell isn't it! Bread pudding... mmm, never went for that but my brothers did. I have no idea what the 'fifth set' is but I'm assuming it's a gardening tip... might have to do a google search or pester someone with green fingers :)

Silver Spun Sand | August 1, 2012 - 10:57

Wonderful poem, tuh...as evocative as those tomato plants...not to mention bread-pudding. Those certainly were the days;-)

Tina

Luly Whisper | August 1, 2012 - 11:22

The fifth set of flowers, I think bexley means - an outdoor tomato should only be required to produce 4 trusses of fruit.

hoalarg1 | August 1, 2012 - 12:15

There are some beautiful lines here. As you say old scents nudge the memory more than any other.

Particularly enjoyed:

as the impossible blue sky
the light
creeping through the curtains
sidestepping sleep
covers pushed back.

Wonderful! A deserved cherry.

magicdarer | August 1, 2012 - 12:34

Enchanting. PS Did you snog your boss?

the unfolding head | August 1, 2012 - 14:52

cheers Tina! :D

the unfolding head | August 1, 2012 - 14:54

ok got-ya, thanks Luly... 'trusses' that's a nice word. I'll have to get squeezing then.

the unfolding head | August 1, 2012 - 14:57

Hey hoalarg1 - thank you very much, that's really kind of you to say. Glad you enjoyed reading it :) ...cherries and tomatoes... 'citing!

the unfolding head | August 1, 2012 - 14:59

appreciated magicdarer! ahh, no. Really the perfume was the only thing the two of them shared... which in some cases could have been enough but... nah ;)

shoe | August 1, 2012 - 19:31

Something special methinks, sweet peas do it for me.

the unfolding head | August 2, 2012 - 09:50

nice one shoe... weet peas eh? nice choice :)

the unfolding head | August 2, 2012 - 09:53

*sweet

tcook | August 2, 2012 - 10:48

This is our Facebook and Twitter pick of the day.

Join us on Twitter @tcookabctales

Join us on Facebook at ABCtales.com

Get a great reading recommendation most days.

the unfolding head | August 3, 2012 - 08:25

thanks TC!

Parson Thru | August 19, 2012 - 00:12

Nice D. I always think of my grandad in Leeds with his greenhouse at the bottom of the garden and his wood and brass watering thing (ok, I don't listen to Gardeners' Question Time). Well done on cherries and FB POTD.