The Garden: Tomato Dawn

The first ripe tomatoes never make it out of the garden. I pluck them from the vine, wipe them off, and pop their warm, sweetness into my mouth. As I celebrate the start of tomato season, I try not to think of its violent end, when, tired of tomatoes, I throw the orbs into the chicken yard, and then finally, yank up the plants and throw them on the burn pile. That time seems so far away.