Please stop producing tomatoes. Just in case you haven't checked your calendar, it is the third of October. You are breaking a strict garden commandment, and I hope you pay the severest penalty possible tonight. In case you have lost your garden bible along with your calendar let me spell those consequences out for you. F-R-O-S-T.
We have eaten tomatoes in salads, side dishes, main dishes and straight off the vine. Repeatedly. I have canned tomatoes, canned more tomatoes, and, no surprise here, as this is being written I am waiting for yet another batch of tomatoes to come out of the canner. For the past week not one person in this family has made eye contact with the ever-present bowl of cherry tomatoes sitting on the counter. It reminds me of meetings I have attended where a request for a volunteer for some particularly hideous job is put forward. All eyes instantly detach from the speaker and fixate on more urgent and important things like the ear on their neighbor's head or the design on the carpet. The fear that a mere glance at the speaker will be mistaken for a raised hand is universal among those who want to maintain their invisibility. So it goes with our bowl of tomatoes. It is as if by even glancing their way they will somehow be transported into our mouths, mouths whose taste buds are suffering from severe tomato fatigue.
I also want to publicly apologize for having had such bad thoughts about the customs guy who confiscated my tomatoes at the border back in July. You are welcome to come take as many tomatoes as you want. In fact, I would be so happy to see you show up to relieve me of this burden I might even make you a cup of tea just to show there are no hard feelings.