My cherry tomatoes are usually the pride and joy of my garden. They’re a ridiculous, messy, borderline “haunted garden” disaster area that gives the weeds a run for their money; they also produce a zillion amazing tomatoes. My late, beloved neighbor once told me that she had a bet with our other neighbor that I wouldn’t be able to grow tomatoes – and then was proud of me when she lost her bet. I’m that person who brings in cherry tomatoes to work because we can’t possibly eat all of them. My older son is constantly raiding the garden.

But not this year. And not just because I’m working from home. But because we have stumps sitting in our garden that have produced exactly zero tomatoes so far. At this point, we’ll be extremely lucky if we get any tomatoes at all this year.