My tomatoes are tough. My peppers are even tougher.
Saturday, I forced myself to wake up early. Ninety-five degrees with 60% humidity, the forecast looked grim. I had about an hour to move the planters into the shade and give the garden a good soak. The morning was so hot and humid, when I returned to the house for a little breakfast, I too was soaked — not by the garden hose, but by my own sweat.
By Saturday afternoon, my planters had started to wilt, but my tomatoes and peppers were thriving. Bees and butterflies were busily pollinating the little yellow and white flowers. They seemed inspired by our subtropical clime. I however was inspired to seek out air conditioning. I gave the planters another soak, wished them bon chance! and braved the crowds at our local super-sized cineplex. While I watched Ratatouille with fidgety five year-olds, my tomatoes and peppers soaked up the sun.
The movie was a foodie’s (and an animation geek’s) dream. From the texture of chopped leeks to the light reflecting off a tomato, I could almost smell and taste the culinary creations. Funny, how those who love to cook also love to garden…
By Sunday morning, my planters had bounced back and my garden had doubled in size. Bell peppers, frying peppers, cherry tomatoes and slicers — the once little green nubs now resembled actual produce. Still green, but closer to turning red and yellow by the minute.


I made some coffee and flipped through some cookbooks. My lazy morning turned into a lazy afternoon. The planters were wilting again, but the sky was turning gray and the air was heavy with the scent of rain.
“Ah… Just in time…”
It started to sprinkle. Then thunder. Then lightning. THEN HAIL - HOLY HAIL!
Panicked, I ran around the yard. Pebbles of ice pelted my face, my house, my planters and my garden.
“How do I protect my veggies? Do I need a tarp? Should I build a lean-to?”
I ran in and out of the garage, overwhelmed by the enormity of the situation. Like many gardeners before me, I soon realized that there was nothing I could do but wait out the storm. Soaked with rain and sweat, I walked back to the house defeated.
As soon as the sky cleared, I ran out of the house to assess the damage. A few shredded leaves clung to their stems, a couple of green tomatoes had fallen to the ground, and that was that. The garden had taken it on the chin and looked no worse for wear.
I had a lot more respect for my plants. They are way tougher than I’ll ever be.