All Hail the Tomatoes

Before we left for Maine, I visited the garden and picked all the ripe or nearly ripe tomatoes. Then I packed them carefully in pairs in small brown paper bags and brought them along for the vacation. A wide windowsill over the counter in the kitchen of our rental house was the perfect place for all 15 to continue ripening until we needed them. 

There was also an old-fashioned brass desk bell on the same sill, and in a bout of whimsy, as we were selecting tomatoes to slice for our sandwiches to carry on the first hike of the trip, I proclaimed that the bell had to be rung whenever a tomato was used. Most of our group was game for this silliness, and for the better part of the week, we dinged in celebration of each tomato.

Back at home, one of my first chores was to head up to the garden and check on it. It seems like we found the sweet spot of traveling this year. The weather down here was unseasonably cool and dry while we were gone, and there was not a single over-ripe tomato on the vine. There were more than 10 pounds of tomatoes ready to pick, though.

And if I could be in two places at once? I would ring that bell for each and every one.