There's a sootiness in the Paste Tomato, and possibly it's a Spreading Pox that might have to be quarantined and then publicly burnt at the stake as an example to every single one of the several million agues Tomato are prone to. Also worth remembering The Hillbilly is a yellow Tomato that has a blush of red around the bloom end, so waiting for her to go completely red is not only unwise it contributes to the Mid July Tomato Ennui that strikes deeply at the heart of the sensitive Gardener. How can he have forgotten that the only reason to foster the Hillbilly Tomato is because they mature to this combination of colors and they have truly refreshing, juicy taste that few other Tomato can match in a white bread sandwich.
Another year or two, and if I'm still amongst the living, I will probably have
reached that point in life when a label around the neck will be necessary.
Ideally the label will have my name upon it, The Artist's name, probably it'll
have a simple map so I might be able to navigate from one corner of the
Vegetable Garden to the other without getting lost, it might have to have a
compass, and most definitely it'll have to have a couple of hundred portrait
pictures of the more confusing areas in the event I again get muddled up around
the important distinction between a Wheel, a Soldier, a Stink and a Squash Bug.
Easy enough to blame an early dementia on the excruciating gymnastics required
to pick a Bush Bean, but I'm beginning to suspect it could be time to start
practicing the ergonomics of the Label Wearer so that kinks might be ironed out
before it's really far too late