HOME-GROWN

images captured by chris

I feel like the lady hiding the glasses from the company because she doesn't use the right dishwasher detergent. The plants get a good watering in their pots every day, twice if it's dry and hot, and always a generous shower over leaves and fruit. And those spots on the tomatoes are the reason we got this new water-softener system---we're in Lime Country. So, if you click to embiggen the picture, you get super-sized water-spots. But BOY are the tomatoes beautiful!

(Ha! To add more to the metaphor---I just noticed they're in a Cascade box. That's too much sugar for a dime).

There's a Special Dispensation (and a place guaranteed in Heaven) for folks who offer Home Grown Tomatoes to strangers.

People smile and chat and they remember you pleasantly. Doors open and folks gather and there's a meeting of the minds, and of neighbors, when Home Grown Tomatoes are offered. I think you could walk up wearing a hockey mask, ring a doorbell, and be welcomed with open arms, were there some nice ripe Big Boys or Cherokees involved.

That's true where I'm from. Might be different other places, but I hope not. Wish I could just FedEx evva one a y'all a big old ripe red Early Girl, and you could have those luscious slices, all leaking their juices into the bowl. We've had tomato salad, cucumber-and-tomato salad, and both of the above varied with the addition of some crushed Premium crackers; we've made the bacon-and-tomato salad, Caprese with shiny little leaves of basil and some fresh Mozz; tomato and watermelon salad, salsa, and spaghetti sauce; Pasta Rustica with just fresh tomatoes, basil, olive oil and fresh-grated Parm, room temp in a bowl, then tossed with steaming pasta straight from the boiling pot. BLT's for every meal, sometimes every day, a bowlful of plain chunks with seasalt, alongside a matching bowl of Chris' Creamed Corn; Redneck Gazpacho, BLT salad dressing, roasted slices, small circles whittled onto the top of ready-for-the-oven quiche and meatloaf, tiny chips in black bean salsa and in guacamole.

And we share, across the fence, to clients, to neighbors, to the UPS guy. Nobody goes away empty-handed; I've even run out of sacks to send them home in.

Home Grown---them and me, and glad of it.