All my life my summers have involved tomatoes.
When I was little, and we would go down the shore, Dad would always stop at farm stands for New Jersey tomatoes.My mother would roll her eyes after a while, but she kept quiet because she loved them as much as he did.
The backyard of the house where we lived had a plot to plant in and of course, tomatoes were involved. My Dad was even one of those people who when they came upon a type of tomato that they like, Dad would save the seeds on a paper towel and when they dried up, he would put them in a brown envelope, mark the type of tomato on the front, and you could bet they’d be planted nest season.
Dad is no longer here, and he would have appreciated the fact that I am over the bridge and close to water.More importantly, I have successfully planted my first, bona fide, home-grown Jersey tomato.It gave up its’ life for us for dinner tonite and it was tasty.
Dad? This one’s for you.