Candy Red

My kids’ dad used to share his bounty straight from the garden. Even the neighbor kids would line up to peel fresh peas from the pod and crunch juicy green beans between their teeth. “It’s just like candy,” he would say. I would laugh and say, “there’s nothing like candy but candy!”

Believe me, if I could grow chocolate-dipped almonds, I would!

Oh, but I do love a fresh vegetable picked right from the sun-kissed garden! This spring I found a compromise.

These Candy Red tomatoes are like picking wild berries in the woods. They hang in fragile clusters, bouncing down to the dirt at the slightest nudge. I wonder how many of their seeds will volunteer to germinate next year?

They’d be great in a salad if I could get them into my kitchen. Somehow they disappear before I get to the back door, eating them from the front of my upturned t-shirt like a pocket.

You know, if you squint hard enough, you could almost believe they’re . . . nah . . . there’s nothing like candy but candy . . .

Peace . . .


Trying to make sense of it all and . . . for the most part . . . doing it.

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