GOODIES FROM THE GARDEN JUST START ROLLING IN

Tax and spend! Tax and spend! I'm not referring to deficit reduction. I'm speaking of the season when the great dividends begin to roll in from the gardens.

In the spring, gardeners tax their muscles and patience spading up the good earth, putting out tomato plants, possibly too early and having to replace them after the killing frost. Then there's staking and tying and cultivating, de-bugging, fertilizing, discouraging rabbits, weeds and, possibly, even muskrats and squirrels.

But after all that "taxing" comes the "spending" of great hours at the table feasting on the largess you, sunshine, rain and the blueprint within the seeds have managed to accomplish.

Symbolic of all this effort and result, for me, was a great handsome tomato I held in my hand. It was 16 inches in circumference and weighed, well, I don't have kitchen scales, but holding a pound can of coffee in one hand and the tomato in the other, the tomato definitely made me lean to its side.

Did I raise this beauty? Alas, no. I've never raised a tomato as large as this one, a gift from my neighbor to the south, along with a half dozen burpless cucumbers, long and slender, cool and crisp.

Let me tell you how much I enjoyed the tomato. First, I cleared the kitchen table of everything but a lace doily, then placed the tomato on a mock cut glass plate and set it in the center of the doily. When the western sun sent fingers of light through the window curtains, it turned the tomato into a ball of red satin.

I used to think that the ink printers employed to print their seed catalogs was not realistic. Rarely did real fruits, vegetables and flowers achieve the colors as they were shown in the catalog, but that red satin tomato exceeded the aspirations of the printers.

The tomato had the "gold seal of approval" as do all tomatoes. Where the blossom dries up and falls off, a small many-rayed yellow star appears. My gift tomato had a twelve pointed star. Look for the star on your next tomato.

After about the third day of admiration I knew I must continue to "spend" this fruit. (Yes, a fruit. The dictionary says it is a fruit used as a vegetable). I peeled it by the boiling water method so as not to waste a bit of its juicy goodness. I even got a little twinge throwing the skin away.

I cut the top quarter of its very solid "meat," diced it, mixed it with some of the crisp, diced cucumber, dashed it with salt, moistened it with mayonnaise and sat down at the lace-doilied table and ate it slowly along with a slice of freshly baked bread and a glass of milk.

I had company. Out the window the blue jays and cardinals were taking turns at the sunflower seeds. House finches were on every landing bar of the feeder. Two robins were in the bird bath and during the course of the meal a squirrel began running north on the high wire, only to meet one running south. Oh, oh, I thought. Confrontation. But they just frisked their tails a bit, then turned around and went back the way they had come.

Next day, I cut off a healthy slice of the tomato for a BLT sandwich. The one slice of the tomato stuck out from around the bread slices like a red ruffle.

Next came some steamed vegetables into which went part of the remaining tomato. Put these tomato pieces in last when you'~ steaming vegetables.

Eventually, I took what was left of the tomato, diced it and cooked it with a few spices, a dash of sugar and butter. Some stale bread crumbs went in at the last of the cooking and there was the tomato's swan song stewed tomatoes. Now, that is my definition of "spending."

It sounds as if I'd tax first and then spend as in the national deficit reduction debate, but my taxing (hard work in the soil, etc.) comes first and my spending the rewards comes second.

Now, about my pumpkin. I'm having a hard time training the vines to go westward, out of harm's way. They want to reach for the morning sun. But I've pinned them down, going westward, with soft wires and I think they're getting the message. However, I haven't cleared off the garden seat yet, where I wish a pumpkin to reach and rest. I may have to just buy a pumpkin and set it there, fooling the plastic rabbit and any passersby

REJOICE!