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I planted several containers of tomatoes on my patio this summer. I planted several varieties, hoping for a bountiful crop. Elbow deep in potting soil and plant fertilizer, I carefully placed each spindly little tomato plant in the earthy clay pots, admiring my green thumb, wondering when those juicy red tomatoes would appear, so I could pile them on my baskets of food that I make up for gifts during the summer months. I watered and fertilized the tomato plants daily. Anxiously searching for signs of tiny tomatoes, springing from the thick stalks, I wondered if they would ever grow.Sixty days and counting, and the tomatoes were still green, but showing hints of red. I spent the summer nursing my tomatoes, waging war against hungry rabbits and groundhogs, and other assorted pests. I studiously weeded pruned, and even sang to my tomatoes. I think they are partial to Beatles’ tunes. I chased away chipmunks and squirrels. My baskets of food are already filled with homey jars of pickled relishes, preserves and fruit jams, just waiting for the crowning glory of fresh red globes of garden fresh tomatoes.