we drove home from ann arbor last night in the midst of ike’s remains. even after it spent most of its fury manhandling cuba and exploding through houston, it was an unearthly storm. a large bank of dark clouds–the whole earth was yellow and swirling with tree limbs and rain. we rode the edge of the storm, fighting our way through rain and eighty mile an hour gusts of wind. it wasn’t until we turned onto murray hill and saw the carnage through little italy that we thought of our tomatoes. those sweet sweet heritage breeds we nursed from tiny seedlings through the entire summer. they just barely fruited a few weeks ago and we were already imagining those round bursts of goodness.

i know that lots of people lost a lot more than i did with ike’s visit, but i still can’t help mourning the tomatoes. i can’t help reliving that constriction of desolation when we pulled into the back parking lot and saw our tomatoes bent and broken. oh my little brandywines…