I don’t want to sound like Debbie Downer, but I will go mad if I hear the term “end of summer” one more time. I’m not ready. This would be why.
It’s not over until the fat tomato sings.
September 2, 2011
This is the bounty from my tomato patch. Year-to-date. This one tomato. It was picked yesterday.
Better perspective. A dinner party this does not make.
This was one day’s harvest from last year’s garden. One day’s.
I still have tomato and avocado salads to make,
Caprese salads to share.
I’d like to make sauce.
I’ve been working on this for a very long time. I’m emotionally invested.
And we’re close…
So the brakes are on, and the flip flops stay out. I will be wearing white after Labor Day and cannot be persuaded to look at a fall sweater (sorry, Ronnie). Summer is hereby extended until I find at least one big fat red juicy ripe tomato in my garden and I’ve had my fill of Greek salad and BLT’s.
Who’s with me?