There are no photos. No evidence at all, honestly. But I can happily attest to the fact that I picked my first tomato of the season, yesterday.
After assuming that all of the tomatoes that were growing were green tomatoes (as in the kind which remain green - even when ripe), I noticed that one of them was finally getting softer/riper on Saturday. It was also changing color.
Yesterday, the tomato had become happily kind of a deep purple, with a green top. The squeeze test proved that it was ready.
After three full months, and off of a plant that is probably nine feet tall, I picked my frist tomato.
Tonight I toasted two English muffins, fried up two eggs, sliced that tomato, and layered it all with a little mayo.
I didn't have to share with Christopher, because he simply doesn't understand the joy of the tomato and egg on toast.
So I sat on the couch and blissed out a bit while the tomato slices dripped and the sandwich made me culinarily happier than I have been since planting my tomatoes a quarter of a year ago.