Ok, I've lashed out on FB about my waning tolerance for summer weather. I find myself today, nearly half-way through August, adding qualifiers to my annual seasonal discontent.
Lunchtime, I wandered out to the garden to see what we could eat. While shopping, I wolfed down about six cherry tomatoes. Pick, pop whole in the mouth: explosions of warm, sweet tomato juice in the mouth. Wipe chin.
Though large tomatoes have to be discovered among browning vines and shriveling specimens, I still find a few. They are knobby and likely insect stung - not the ones you'd post on FB - but the juicy red meat inside complements a pimento cheese sandwich just fine.
I also find a fragrantly ripe cantaloupe, a golden Asian pear, and the first voluptuous figs, which make their way into a fruit salad.
I'm sitting on the porch savoring the right-off-the vine goodness of my harvest. My hands smell of the basil I picked for tonight's pizza. I nabbed a few banana peppers for that purpose as well.
I'm thinking I've given summer short shrift. Winter tomatoes, an oxymoron, loom not so far ahead, and I know I will be pouring longingly over seed catalogues.
Ok, late summer, season of fruitfulness, ease me into autumn, and I'll try to be more open minded.
Lunchtime, I wandered out to the garden to see what we could eat. While shopping, I wolfed down about six cherry tomatoes. Pick, pop whole in the mouth: explosions of warm, sweet tomato juice in the mouth. Wipe chin.Though large tomatoes have to be discovered among browning vines and shriveling specimens, I still find a few. They are knobby and likely insect stung - not the ones you'd post on FB - but the juicy red meat inside complements a pimento cheese sandwich just fine.
I also find a fragrantly ripe cantaloupe, a golden Asian pear, and the first voluptuous figs, which make their way into a fruit salad.
I'm sitting on the porch savoring the right-off-the vine goodness of my harvest. My hands smell of the basil I picked for tonight's pizza. I nabbed a few banana peppers for that purpose as well.
I'm thinking I've given summer short shrift. Winter tomatoes, an oxymoron, loom not so far ahead, and I know I will be pouring longingly over seed catalogues.
Ok, late summer, season of fruitfulness, ease me into autumn, and I'll try to be more open minded.
