Green Tomatoes

Oil painting. Cheri Wollenberg.

The last of my summer tomatoes had a stubborn streak. They were staying green.

I brought them into the house recently. Maybe I didn’t want the critters to get to them. Maybe I figured I could have them ripen on the counter at their own speed.

Or maybe I was just tired of the daily watering. Our relentless hot, dry summer carried into September.

My first instinct…the windowsill. Still green.

I moved them into baskets somewhat away from the light source. Still green.

Then I happened upon a tip that suggested putting them in darkness, specifically a brown paper bag.

There are certain gases emitted during the ripening process that, once captured and contained, will benefit the ripening.

It is working.

They are turning yellow, orange, then the desired red. Once in that brown bag, I stopped interfering, and the process evolved in its own time.

We are very much like that.

I have suffered bouts of depression over the years. Words of advice from caring friends and family never worked. Surrounding myself with joy and light didn’t always help. Mostly, the contrast was painful.

At times, we all need to go into that dark place and heal, in our own way, at our own pace.

People will notice. They will worry. They will try to help you to a brighter place.

But it is still our own brown bag.

Let it rest.

 

 

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