Now I know you are waiting with bated breath (or baited breath, if you've been eating garlic) for the latest and greatest word on the world of tomatoes.

The three early tomatoes are planted in planters bought back in the days when all I had was an apartment balcony and these planters for a mini garden. They all have flowers and I'm pretty sure two tomato sets, maybe three. I am ever-hopeful in these areas.

The big round garden (well, bigger, anyway) has six tomato plants of the Celebrity variety and they have a lot of growing yet to do before they decide to flower. They're about the right size for tomato cages, though, so that will be my project for this evening, setting up tomato cages.

Then I'll sit in the cooling evening and throw the ball for the dog. The chasing of the spit-covered ball is the highlight of her day. Personally, I find the notion of putting a spit- and dirt-encrusted ball in my mouth and carrying it around quite disgusting, but she has a great time, panting and smiling and doing victory laps around the patio chairs before bringing it back to me to be thrown again.

Last year, I found an errant green tomato on the ground and threw it for her. She was halfway back across the back yard before she realized there was something very different about this ball and the puzzled look on her face as she spit it out was hilarious. One of those times when you wish you had a camera permanently affixed to your shoulder so you could catch it for posterity.

As if my posterior--excuse me, posterity--would care.

Another day in the urban jungle....