I drove to Glenburn with my tomato last week.

You’re probably wondering why Glenburn.

That’s where Dick lives.

If you’re wondering why Dick lives in Glenburn, I couldn’t say. It’s not something we’ve discussed.

Personally, I was wondering why my tomato’s name was Big Zac. I also pondered what would happen if I had to stop quickly before I got to Dick’s and Big Zac came hurtling out of the back seat because it wasn’t buckled in.

Big Zac goes splat.

But that didn’t happen. Big Zac made it without incident, back to where it all began for my big little tomato.

For me, the tale starts many years ago, about the time I started working for the Bangor Daily News. That’s where I met Dick Smith, who started Glenburn Gardens before he retired from the NEWS.

I’ve been a regular customer at the greenhouse since the beginning. When we aren’t discussing mutual acquaintances, family and life in general, Dick and his wife, LoAnn, and I are trading plant stories. Hundreds of plants lovingly raised by this pair have found a home in my garden year after year. When I think of all I’ve eaten that got its start at this greenhouse, I am overwhelmed: peppers, cabbage, broccoli, onions, celery, cantaloupe, cucumbers, cauliflower and, of course, tomatoes.

One of the things that always delights me is that Dick is usually up for trying, shall we say, unusual vegetation.

And Dick being Dick and me being me, I end up trying it, too.

One mode of acquisition is that Dick and I are making small talk and he will mention some new variety he’s trying that he wants me to see. After he tells me all he knows about it, I pick up a pot or a six-pack containing the new variety and tell him I’ll let him know how it goes.

The other mode is that I am wandering about one of the greenhouses, notice a plant tag of a new variety and find Dick to see what he can tell me about the plant. Then I pick up a pot or a six-pack containing the new variety and tell him I’ll let him know how it goes.

As you can see, the outcome of these encounters is always the same.

This spring was no different. I happened across a tray sprouting little Big Zacs. Dick was really excited about this one; I didn’t even have to ask

before he started telling me about this amazing tomato. He couldn’t wait to get some planted in his own vegetable garden.

Why?

Big Zac was billed as capable of producing – brace yourself – tomatoes that could weigh 5 pounds.

As in each.

I believe my first comment was, “Really?”

I tried to picture it and thought of a 5-pound bag of sugar. That would be quite a tomato.

Home went I and the tomato plant.

Fast forward to September. I had kept an eye on Big Zac all summer. It had been placed advantageously near the south end of the garden, where the moisture is steady even when the rain is not. I wanted to give it every excuse to grow massive tomatoes.

I hadn’t noticed anything particularly impressive about the plant itself. It seemed to sprawl less than most of the vines, and when it started to blossom, the resulting fruit looked ordinary.

Then one day, I spied a couple of larger-than-usual green tomatoes. One of them was shaped normally, but the other had brown seams where its three lobes converged.

I held out little hope that the seamed one – the largest of the lot, of course – would ripen before rotting.

But hope I did. I hoped for no rot. I hoped for no frost. I hoped that the Big Zacs wouldn’t split from too much water. I hoped that the little nibbling critters would nibble all but these.

Somehow, some way, it happened. Big Zac the Big and Big Zac the Medium ripened, with Big Zac the Lesser and a bunch of Big Zac the Normals bringing up the rear.

Which brings us back to me on the road with Big Zac the Big last week.

I arrived at Dick’s only to find him not home. He had vegetables for sale, which meant he had a scale hanging by.

I retrieved Big Zac and watched the scale creep up. Then I wrote a note to let Dick know I’d stopped by.

Plus I told him how big the tomato was.

As I was getting ready to leave, LoAnn discovered me and kept me entertained until Dick got home.

After catching up and walking about the garden (look, pumpkins the size of boulders!), we went to look at my Big Zac and at a couple of his Big Zacs.

His biggest one, he said, weighed 2 pounds.

I couldn’t help but smile. Mine was 21/4.

But who was I to gloat? Just one of his pumpkins made up for all of mine combined – for the past two summers, at least.

Janine Pineo is a NEWS copy desk editor and systems editor who ate much of Big Zac the Big last weekend. It took two family meals, a sandwich and a late-night broil session with a little olive oil, basil leaves and mozzarella. Big Zac the Medium filled a third of a quart jar and was subsequently canned along with a variety of other tomatoes. Janine can be reached at jpineo@bangordailynews.net.