It's not over until the fat tomato sings.

I don't want to sound like Debbie Downer, but I will go mad if I hear the term "end of summer" one more time. I'm not ready. This would be why.

This is the bounty from my tomato patch. Year-to-date. This one tomato. It was picked yesterday.

Better perspective. A dinner party this does not make.

This was one day's harvest from last year's garden. One day's.

Bon Apetit.

  

I still have tomato and avocado salads to make,

Caprese salads to share.

I'd like to make sauce.

I've been working on this for a very long time. I'm emotionally invested.

And we're close...

...very close.

So the brakes are on, and the flip flops stay out. I will be wearing white after Labor Day and cannot be persuaded to look at a fall sweater (sorry, Ronnie). Summer is hereby extended until I find at least one big fat red juicy ripe tomato in my garden and I've had my fill of Greek salad and BLT's.   

Who's with me?