“Soon, you're going to have to move out！” cried my neighbour upon seeing the largest tomato plant known to mankind, or at least known in my neighbourhood.

        One tiny 9­inch plant, bought for $1.25 in the spring, has already taken over much of my rose bed, covering much of other plants, and is well on its way to the front door.

        Roses require a good deal of care, and if it weren't for the pleasure they give, it wouldn't be worth the work. As it is, I have a garden full of sweet­smelling roses for most of the year. Bushes must be pruned(剪枝) in early spring, leaving ugly woody branches until the new growth appears a few weeks later. It was the space available in the garden that led me into planting just one little tomato plant. A big mistake.

        Soil conditions made just perfect for roses turn out to be even more perfect for tomatoes. The daily watering coupled with full sun and regular fertilizing(施肥) have turned the little plant into a tall bush. The cage I placed around it as the plant grew has long since disappeared under the thick leaves.

        Now the task I face in harvesting the fruit is twofold(由两部分组成的). First, I have to find the red ones among the leaves, which means I almost have to stand on my head, and once they are found I have to reach down and under, pick the tomatoes and withdraw my full fist without dropping the_prize_so_dearly_won. Second, I found two full­blown white roses completely hidden as I picked tomatoes in June, but they were weak and the leaves were already yellow for lack of light.

        Here I am faced with a painful small decision: to tear up a wonderful and productive tomato plant that offers up between ten and twenty ripe sweet tomatoes each day or say goodbye to several expensive and treasured roses. Like Scarlett in GonewiththeWind, I'll think about that tomorrow.