Tomatoes for my father

Gabriella Gomersall Hubbard

It’s a hot March day 
rows and rows of tall plants
all around me…….
Bella, the black cat has followed me.
I have brought some baskets.
 I never thought I would be doing this.

Bright red tomatoes are peaking from the leaves.
Big bulbous ones, round ones, shining red or yellow ones,
 and little round ones, growing like grapes.
They are all beckoning me to be eaten, right now 

I can just see him, my father, standing in his land, among the plants.
 “Just pick one and eat it now. 
Non c’e` nulla che ti da` piu` piacere di un pomodoro appena colto”  *
He used to say smiling,
 enjoying the sensual pleasure of eating un pomodoro, **
warmed by the sun, its aroma filling the air.
He would be so happy to see me, today, picking tomatoes.

I did not understand
How strong was his passion for growing things
I did not understand
 how hard it was for him not to have 
A block of land to grow flowers, vegetable, fruit trees, grape vines…..


We lived in the city, 
 only a bit of a garden at the back,
only zinnias, basil, marigolds and a few plants of tomatoes.
Not enough tomatoes to make passata…*** He bought them from a farm
My father’s yearning for the fresh, genuine homemade food
became a yearly family ritual. 
My sister and I, teenagers, were very embarrassed about it all.
In the small garden, overlooked by all the people in the building
we did not want to do it!  

My father’s enthusiasm was infectious
 soon our neighbors took part,
 our friends begged us to come. 
We washed, chopped and filled the sterilized bottles with red ripe tomatoes
among laughter, jokes, stories and splashed sauce..
The day was noisy and hectic. So many smiling faces.
My father would be happy today, 
I am making passata di pomodori, in Australia……

He did buy a block of land, when he retired.
Built a small house, planted hydrangeas, roses, grape vines,
Olive trees, lemon and orange trees and … tomatoes. 
I would find him there, in his land, caring for his plants,
 whenever I went back to Italy. 

Now, I understand
Now, among the plants, while the cat looks at me.
I pick and eat a big red tomato, just here, the aroma fills my senses.
And the memory of my father fills my heart.

Notes

*“There is nothing that gives you more pleasure than a tomato just picked”
**A tomato
*** tomato puree made from fresh tomatoes
This piece was written on 20/8/2023

About Gabriella Gomersall Hubbard

Gabriella Gomersall Hubbard is a teacher, writer and artist. Gabriella was born in Rome, she moved to Melbourne in 1976. She worked as a NAATI Interpreter, teacher and journalist. In 2007 she was awarded the Victorian Multicultural Award for excellence in Journalism. She is the author of “Growing Honest Food” published by Hyland House. While living in the Geelong area she founded “La Piazzetta” a monthly magazine in the Italian language. She loves travelling, history, gardening, theatre and art.