I've never purported to have a green thumb, so it was for me one of the great miracles of the universe when my boyfriend Andrew and I noticed the first of our cherry tomatoes ripening in the yard. Our garden is a project that will grow, pardon the pun, each year, and this year we have seen a lot of firsts and a lot of trial and error with our maiden voyage.

Did my potted peas grow and then shrivel? Yes. Did my marjoram unexpectedly explode to the point where I don't even know if I can use all of it...dried? Yes. Did I get a rather embarrassing farmer's tan on the space of my back above the top of my pants and the bottom of my shirt? Yes. Yes, yes, yes, to all of it.

Now the peas have withered into non-existence, my marjoram has flowered, and on the farmer's tan...? No comment. But there, budding out of one of my three fruiting tomato plants was one perfect crimson gem - and it was finally, after days and days of being green, ripe enough to eat.

For me, this was a really momentous occasion - huge. I had never raised something to flower and bear edible fruit before, and frankly, it was simultaneously a relief knowing that I could do it, and a delight knowing that I could eat it (there was much more delight than relief in this instance - truth be told, I have, in the past, killed cacti; but I am trying very hard to mend the error of my ways). As I had shared the growing with Andrew, I also wanted to share the eating. While he may have thought it to be a ridiculous gesture, I took that sun sugar and I cut it in two with one clean slice. Then, I offered Andrew half. We both popped our halves into our mouths and smiled in agreement - it was good.