The plant had outlasted summer. It didn’t sicken and grow spindly and yellow like the others, but retained its healthy greenness and even seemed to grow, although that might have been illusory. It was situated in the spot that gets the most sun; moreover, no tomato vine has been planted there in the almost twenty years we have had this house, although whether that theory (don't plant tomatoes twice in the same spot) holds water, who knows. Every year, I rip them out automatically, harvest and let the green fruit ripen in cardboard boxes. This year I left the healthy one in the ground, and it continued to produce bunches of green-yellow orbs. And I kept harvesting them and ripening them and using them. And now it is mid-winter and I have seasonal tomatoes. Climate change, everyone says. Maybe. I don't know. Persian fetta and fresh tomatoes with fettuccine. No apologies for this flagrantly summerish dish in the depths of winter; after all, I make stews and brisket and lasagne