Tomatoes At Twilight

I've always wanted to meet Paul Greenberg. His columns were a little island of pro-life sanity during the Clinton years, and he knows what's good:
personally planted and tended and harvested but God-produced tomatoes.
He writes poetically of the pride of Arkansas, the Bradley County Pink. Which reminds me it's time for a tomato update.

There are dozens of these beauties now,

and more where they come from.

But note they're not close to ripe and it's June 25th.

First ripe tomato data, for each year available:
Clearly global warming peaked three years ago, which is a shame because a greatly extended tomato season would be a boon to all mankind.
Note the vivid color, the simple heft, the way it was made for the human hand. Neither delay nor hurry. Pause to appreciate the ripeness slowly achieved over the past few days. Don't forget to enjoy the scent - with eyes closed. Breathe deeply. Then slice evenly, noting the fine texture. Be careful of the juice. No, don't taste yet. If you must, barely sprinkle with just a little coarse salt, or make a tomato sandwich using two slices of brown bread and very little, just the lightest little hint, of unsalted butter, nothing more. Now. Have the first bite of summer. And you'll know what time itself tastes like. Good appetite!
But the tomatoes, as we have established, don't lie.