Officially, the vines won’t wilt until the first autumn frost moves in. But my six tomato plants, popped into in a small square of earth near my front door on Memorial Day, look ready for burial in tall brown leaf bags.

My backyard plants passed away months ago. They never really got started, and I know why. The ever-expanding tree on the side of the yard means plenty of shade and zero afternoon sun.

I probably picked 35 tomatoes during August and September, and a few late Early Girls are in the green and tilting toward pink. I’ve been slicing a couple open every night, for toppings on the chicken sandwiches, sausage sandwiches and hamburgers that have been on the bachelor kitchen menu during the past week or so.

Always kind of sad when the tomatoes cash out. It means winter is on the way in, and that’s not such a bad thing. Fireplace season is one of my favorites.

I may keep the red heads out of the ground next May, and return marigolds to a once-familiar patch.

But I could always call Schenectady’s Bob Naylor, the tomato genius I wrote about a few years ago, for some tips. I think Bob, who lives on McClellan Street, could grow tomatoes in Alaska during a blizzard. Soil, sun, fertilizer — Bob has the hocus-pocus for the tom-tom club.

For now, I’m hoping fading warmth will fix me up with a couple more “Girls.” I’d kind of like to make chili this weekend, and fresh tomatoes are the planned toppers.