It’s August and utter bliss for all who believe that if love grew from the ground it would be a sun-ripened tomato.
The tomato pots on my own balcony are yielding their own modest offerings. But the number doesn’t matter. I could eat bowl for dessert and melt in their sweetness.
Home Grown
Except for one, however. The one which grew a nose.
Is that a nose?
Kitchen Report 