The tomato pots are about to topple over, not from the weight of the fruit but from the overgrown foliage that's crawling up the side of the house and into the bedroom window. Last night I stuck my head up in the jungle and managed to pick a nice bowl in a few minutes. My nose was filled with that wonderful smell from all the leaves and stems that I broke off and trampled in the process.
Nice local tomatoes are in season at the produce markets and can be bought for much less trouble and expense than it took to grow these. Still, as any old hippie will tell you, it's not quite the same as growing your own.
It's difficult to think anything but pleasant thoughts
while eating a homegrown tomato.
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