and again. and once more. and the next day. and the day after that.
The garden is fit to bursting. Even the squirrels can’t make a dent in the tomatoes. They’ve invited their cousins and their uncles and their girlfriends and still, plenty for everyone.
I halve them, pull out the seeds, chop them up, give them a good spill of beautiful olive oil, a small shower of sea salt, ripped basil leaves and for every cup of tomato, half a clove of smashed then minced, garlic. I toss it with al dente pasta as soon as it comes out of the pan, taste for salt and pepper and olive oil and then give it a half a handful of Parmigiano Reggiano.
And every time I love it even more. That’s how I have it over on the squirrels. I can cook.