Autumn tomatoes...

My two potted tumbling tomato plants are still going strong despite the onset of autumn and the lack of sunshine. If anything the tomatoes are ripening better in the gloom than ever they did in the summer. We’ve had dozens this week alone, and each morning the plants seem to be full once more with small, sweet, cherry tomatoes. It’s almost as though the tomato fairy comes each night and replaces the fruit we’ve picked from the plant that day.

There’s a myth that Andy Warhol’s mother served him tomato soup as lunch for over twenty years and that’s why he painted Cambell’s tomato soup cans. I don’t know if that’s true or not but our tiny tomatoes, some no bigger than a pea and even the largest no more than the size of a large grape, are absolutely delicious and full of that sweet acidic tomato taste. They are firm, juicy, and as red as an auguste clown’s nose.

Which reminds me, the autumn’s here - it’s been creeping in for days, leaves turning to brown, the fruit going to ripe and over on and off the branch. There’ll be bonfires soon, and mist, and fog, and fireworks.

Autumn auguste clowns - the circus will soon be coming to town.