It has been a wonderful year for tomatoes.  Last summer they refused to ripen.  This was probably for the best, since JD was only a few months old and canning them was not really a feasible option.  My stash of home canned tomatoes had dwindled down to the point where I was almost panicking.  No goulash?  What if I really, really want goulash?  You can’t make goulash with (gasp) store bought canned tomatoes!

Yes, there are others like me out there, before you call the loony bin to see if they have an opening for me.  Though I could really use the break….

I wasn’t alone in last summer’s tomato plight.  No one had a good season.  This year, I am also not alone.  Everyone has had an incredible crop thanks to the heat.  How do I know this?  Merely by gauging people’s reactions when I ask them if they want some tomatoes.  Very rarely do you hear “oh sure!  I would LOVE some!”

No, it is more likely that the person will look momentarily horrified, turn slightly green, and say “oh no, thank you!  I couldn’t.  I just couldn’t!”

They too have stood over so many tomatoes they could cry.  The smell of cooked tomatoes probably makes them  ill.  I know after the spaghetti sauce experiment (which was not my best work, much like my first attempt several years ago) I have no desire to eat marinara for a good long time.

I see many people are attempting to sell their extras on the side of the road.  I suppose I should do that, but I find myself feeling generous.  It’s part of the circle of gardeners.  My pickles didn’t grow, but someone had an abundance I took advantage of.  My corn is starting to slowly ripen, so my friend dropped off several bags of hers, plus some potatoes.  Oh, you didn’t need cabbage?  Do you want me to take it back home (please say no, please say no).  Of course not!  I can find a home for it.

It helps to know busy people, city people who do not garden.  I think my husband keeps his car locked to prevent me from shoveling in produce for him to pass on to his coworkers.  Then again, his car does still reek of dill, so I guess I can’t blame him.  The stuff comes up wild in the garden, and I had no pickles!  My chiropractor was happy to take some tomatoes.

I think I am just about tomatoed out.  Aside from some BLT’s, or maybe some pico de gallo, I really cannot stand the thought of processing any more tomatoes.  Even the chickens are sick of them.  How quickly we go from “oh no, the chickens are eating the tomatoes!” to “fine!  Eat them all!  See if I care!”  and the chickens look at you with disdain as if to say “woman, we are waiting for the corn to ripen!”

Ok, if the chickens are talking to me, maybe I do need that padded room vacation.