Oh Lord, my dear departed husband, got an itch one year and true to form he overdid it. He dug a five foot deep, five foot round hole and all winter, he threw every kitchen scrap inside, added a layer of dirt, then more kitchen scrap. The first snow hit and when I looked out the window, steam was pouring out that man's hole. You'd have thought we were in Yellowstone. We ran outside, and that hole was so hot it burned our hands.

Come spring my husband planted six tomato plants in that stupid hole. It wasn't long before we had Jack and the Beanstalk sized tomato plants everywhere. Those darned bushes grew 20 feet that year and refused to stop producing. One night, the silence woke me up. It was way too early in the year, but sure enough it was snowing. In a flash, we had our clothes on and were outside watching the leaves turn black while we snatched the last of our tomatoes off the vines. We must have picked 50 pounds, or more. It took three days to put those tomatoes up; tomato sauce, tomato soup, catsup, dried tomatoes, diced and frozen, canned and pickled, a few dozen loaves of tomato bread. Our friends were so sick of tomatoes they avoided us like the plague.

My dear departed was inspired and the next year he grew a cash crop of maryjane in the middle of our tomato bed. Now that was a productive year.

Thanks for the nice compliment, maybe I will edit this and publish (and credit you with inspiration :)