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On the front of the box, there was a beautiful color photo of a dark green three-legged stand, with a light green bag positioned on top. Inside the bag, there were four feet tall succulent tomato plants filled with bright red fruit just begging to be mixed into salads and sauces.
At first, I thought I might be holding the box the wrong way because the plants were growing toward the ground. Tomatoes were intended to grow up toward the sky, not down toward the earth.
Nevertheless, I was thrilled to receive this gift. My back deck gets bright sunshine (a perfect spot for my tomato plants). I couldn’t wait to reach out and snatch a fresh, homegrown, ripened tomato from its vine. I could imagine smelling its tangy scent, adding a dash of salt to the flesh of the tomato, and munching away.
In my mind’s eye, I could see bushels of plump, juicy, red globes growing from this amazing inverted contraption. I’d already purchased some tomato plants so all I had to do was assemble my new contraption, and I would be ready to go. With my green thumb what could go wrong.
Whenever I am dealing with something that requires assembly the first thing I do is clear an area in which to work.
My kitchen table looked appropriate for the task at hand. Although the area was small, there appeared to be adequate room. I stood between the table and the stove, opened the box, located the printed assembly instructions, and then laid all the pieces out on the table in order of assembly.
I checked each part against the contents to ensure that my plant stand was there it its entirety. As I read the instructions, I notice three of my favorite words: “No tools required!” I have a very limited stash of tools: a hammer, one flathead screwdriver, and a pair of pliers. I gave up long ago on things like ratchets, c-clamps, and vise grips.
Locating the first leg of my miraculous new tomato plant stand, I slipped it easily through what appeared to be a round catch basin. As I turned it over to insert the second leg, I knocked my napkin holder off the table and onto the floor, its contents scattering from the force of my ceiling fan.
Holding the one perfectly positioned leg of the stand, I bent down to pick up the napkins when the leg proceeded to knock an empty pan off the stove, which clanked and bounced until it came to rest between my feet, emitting enough noise to wake my poor dog Pepper, from a sound sleep. Pepper decided to retreat to the safety and quiet of my bedroom. She’d witnessed my past attempts and knew she would be more secure in my bed than anywhere else in the house.
I then picked up what purported to be leg Number Two, the one that Inspector 58 had failed to file down smoothly, which I discovered when I felt a sharp sting and then saw something wet and red running down the green leg. (It was my blood.) Thankfully, the slice in my palm did not require stitches and there were plenty of napkins strewn about to help stem the flow of blood while I continued on to leg Number Three.
Anyone who has ever set up a Christmas tree stand knows that the first two legs go in fairly easily. It’s the third one that requires patience. About this time I noticed Pepper peeking around the corner, watching me twist and turn not only the stand, but also my entire body as I struggled to get leg Number Three to cooperate. Once the third leg was inserted, a four-foot pipe would then supposedly connect the legs so that the green bag could be placed on top. Fully assembled, the tomato stand would measure six feet tall, and I’m only five feet tall.
In order to reach the top of the stand, I had to tip the entire contraption at an angle to snap the green bag in place. In the process of backing up, the round basin managed to hit a pile of papers on the table, which I attempted to catch in mid air while holding the middle pipe of the stand. Pepper took one look, must have thought, “Samurai Sword,” and ran back into my room.
It was time to take a break. I needed to, wipe the sweat from my eyes, change the bloody napkin on my palm, and convince my confused dog that those loud curses issuing from my mouth were not directed at her. A few more minutes of effort, and the most amazing tomato stand, I had ever seen, was fully assembled and ready for use.
My kitchen was a mess of empty plastic wrap, cardboard remnants, and a few bloody napkins, but it was all worth it.
All that remained was to get it outside on the deck through my glass sliders. I was faced with the proverbial round peg/square hole predicament, but persistent angling back and forth paid off.
My tomato stand fit perfectly in the corner of the deck just as I had imagined it would. Now, I just needed to summon enough energy to climb on a chair and dump four bags of potting soil up over my head to fill the bag.
This year I’m hoping someone gives me a video camera. I’m planning on buying a barbecue grill, and a small table and chairs for the deck. Unless I purchase the floor models, I honestly think I will possess one of America’s Funniest Home Videos!
About the author:
Arlene O'Neil is the parent of a US Soldier and the Author of “Broken Spokes,” Arlene’s first published novel.
In addition to being an author, Arlene is a self-employed editor and proofreader and a regular contributor to www.goarmyparents.com
A member of several blind dog lists, Arlene is also involved in animal rescue and transport and an advocate for handicapped animals.
Her inspirational life story of survival, “Broken Spokes,” is available through Amazon.com and Sagabooks.net.
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