Wet, wet, wet

"Plant these before the rain comes on" said Jo-Jo, inviting me the to take as many tomates Roma (plum tomatoes) plugs as I wanted from the tray that he was holding. I reckon the tray had once held at least 200 little tomatoes but Jo has put about 20m into his potager, which at 4 per metre I reckon makes about 80 plants. (He always has a glut!) The rest he's sharing with me and the mechanics at his son-in-law's garage.

But the clouds were gathering for a storm. "You should profit from the rain and get them in before so that they get well watered in", he explained.

So dutifully back to my garden, where, fortunately, I had a bed that I'd recently weeded. The clouds were getting darker and it was starting to spit.

A lightning fast forking over was matched by a soundtrack of thunder. Then just as the first little tomato dropped into its little hole, the heavens opened! (And I'd scooped up over a dozen!) In they went, at a speed even the local field workers would be impressed by, but not fast enough to save me from getting completely drenched.

A moment to remember with our first home grown tomato salad of the summer.

(This is bonus that goes along with growing your own vegetables - not just the great flavour and sense of satisfaction, but the fact that consuming them generates memories of planting them and caring for them, of nurturing the sickly ones and standing back amazed at the rude health of the rest. I think a similar thing can be said for wine bought direct from the vineyard. As you drink it, you recall the place where you bought it, the setting of the vineyards, the weather, the conversation with the vigneron and it all adds to your enjoyment. That's added value that a supermarket can never offer.)

By the way, 10 minutes later it stopped raining!