The leaves on my Dogwood are already turning. Mid-August, and the lower level leaves are edged in burnished red. Yet, lined up along my kitchen windowsill are the most beautiful tomatoes!
I wish I could say I grew them, but I did not. I did rescue one from the squirrels who regularly raid my one tomato plant in my raised bed. It has slowly ripened on the sill. But the rest of those beauties were given to me by a friend who knew how much I’d appreciate them.
I am so happy with these tomatoes, I don’t want to eat them right now. I just want to look at them. There are two perfect orange ones, two that will be purple when I can make myself cut into them, and two called German Johnson. I don’t know why.
Tomorrow, I will continue my Southern ritual of tomato sandwiches with Duke’s Mayonnaise for lunch. I will relish every bite, and I will think about how Autumn is rapidly approaching, ending this delicious ritual for another year, but bringing new, interesting, and wonderous delights. Ummm, pass the salt, please.