Every summer, as the sun warms our small backyard, I’m reminded of my father’s garden—rows of tomatoes stretching as far as my childhood eyes could see. Back then, it was a point of pride to grow more than the neighbors. Now, decades later, I find myself repeating his ways, filling every inch of soil with tomato seedlings. But this year, my wife stood at the back door, hands on hips, counting twenty tomato plants and shaking her head. 'Who’s going to eat all these?' she laughed, half-joking, half-exasperated. I felt a familiar tug of nostalgia, but also a sting of modern reality: times have changed. Our kids prefer store-bought cherry tomatoes, and the neighbors worry about overgrown vines crossing the fence. In our community, there’s a quiet tension between old-school abundance and today’s tidy, HOA-approved yards. Some folks say a wild, overflowing garden is a sign of love and tradition. Others grumble about pests and property values. I see both sides—my heart aches for the taste of sun-warmed tomatoes, but my mind wonders if I’m out of step with the times. Last week, a sudden heatwave scorched half my crop. My wife said, 'Maybe it’s nature’s way of telling you to plant less.' Maybe she’s right. Or maybe, like my father, I just can’t let go of the past. Do you ever feel torn between the garden you remember and the one your family wants today? #gardeningdebate #familytraditions #tomatoseason #Gardening