Since so many of you love to hear and tell stories, I'm going to tell you one.
When I was just a little chick, a Saturday during tomato and corn season would be spent at a farm in Doylestown (which, living closer in to Philly at the time made that the "country"). Present and accounted for would be my parents, my brother and my maternal grandparents.
Two brothers owned the farm and while the majority of acreage was used for the growing of commercial or "cow corn", there was a huge plot of corn and tomatoes reserved for the use of family and friends. We got to pick corn and tomatoes from that plot.
We came equipped with lots of baskets and boxes...that was a given. But Grandpa and I always brought along something extra...a cut glass, metal topped shaker...OF SALT!
Because, you can't go picking tomatoes without eating some on the spot, right?
I would trudge behind Grandpa...he would show me which tomatoes were ripe...I thought that he had some kind of magical gift because every one of the tomatoes he showed me were absolutely, positively delicious. I would pull off the tomato, rub it against my shorts and take just a little bite...big enough to break through the skin and into the meat of the tomato. Then, a sprinkle of salt, and a huge bite, with tomato juice dribbling down my chin. Another sprinkle of salt, another bite and soon, the whole tomato was gone. On to another one.
That began my love affair with fresh picked, vine ripened tomatoes.
During junior high and high school summer break, I can remember getting into it with my mom about what I wanted to eat for lunch. For, every day, it was the same. A sliced tomato (freshly picked from the garden), on white bread with mayo. That's it...every day. Mom just didn't get it...she had a fridge filled with lunch meats, leftovers, cheese...but no, it had to be tomato and mayo on white bread...every day. A bit obsessive, no?
So, this morning, I was outside filling Fred's water bowl and came around the corner to the cherry tomato bush. You have to understand that we don't have a huge yard and we've made use of just about every bit of available space so there's no place for a veggie garden, per se. But, I have to have some vine ripened tomatoes, so every year, I put a plant in a pot and wait to see what happens. Some years, we have a great crop...other years, it's pretty sparse...and then there are the years of the hungry birds! OY!
Well, as I rounded the corner, what did I spy with my little eye? You got it...a ripe cherry tomato. Instinct took over...I plucked that little sucker, rubbed it on my shorts and plunked it in my mouth. Yummmmmm!
Some things never change! :)
OK, while we're all in the storytelling mood...do tell! Any behaviors from childhood days that haven't changed...we're dying to know!
"aaah. stories. they can be told through so many mediums but the one that seems to be my favorite is always through the tactile things- rocks or shells found on a weekend get-away, the menus from favorite restaraunts, ticket stubs from the movies or a play... ephemera always seems more 'real' to me and I am trying to include more of it in my little books and journals, in addition to the photos and journaling.