Harvesting time has come and gone. While I write this, a half-eaten tuna sandwich sits on the kitchen table by my hand, a couple of tomato slices included. Best damn tomatoes I ever ate. And why not? There’s a little taste of mother in every bite. The neighbors down the street seem to love them too. And what else is better to wash it all down with than a nice cold glass of cat’s milk?
Next year, I’m thinking I might grow some watermelons.