Ode to the Tomato's

Alas, it is a sad day. My last day this season to harvest tomato's. I love checking the tomato's daily and bringing some in to eat. I probably haven't told them enough what they mean to me. And now, as frost fast approaches it's almost too late.

Cherry tomato's - you are like chocolate in my hand. Addictive, enticing, diminutive, challenging to find every ripe one hiding from view. Many of you never ever make it to the kitchen. I don't share you well. I keep lamenting how poorly you performed this year - At least that's what I tell people. It's a need to know thing......you understand.

Heirloom tomato's - this is the year of Mr. Stripey. What can I say about Mr. Stripey? You, Dear Stripey are adorable. Larger than a ping pong ball, but smaller that a tennis ball. Sweet, scrumptious, and yes, even striped. Many a time you were a substitute for a tennis ball for Maddie to run with.

Better Boys - you are consistent, productive, tolerant - just what we want from both our boys and our tomato's. You are still blooming your heart out and I hate to see you go.

Dear, dear Tomato's - you are blt's, you are bruschetta, you are tomato sauce, juice, you are the stuff of Bloody Mary's. You are salsa and soup. You are a meal with just salt, basil,mozzarella and olive oil. Nothing says summer like a home grown tomato.

I shall try to cover you with blankets tonight, to prolong your departure and shield you from the cold. If you succumb to the frost - know you are loved. And we shall meet again in the Spring as soon as the frost date has passed.