I stopped by my parents house at one point last week; I think S. and I were
picking up the car (we park our car there during the week because we don't really have reliable parking...) for an errand or something. I stepped into the backyard, as is my usual thing to do upon arriving there (as long as the back door isn't iced over or snowed shut) and breathed deeply.

Tomatoes.

All I could smell from the back porch was the smell of sun-ripened tomatoes; that sweet, slightly acidic, quite pungent odor that comes from a small well-tended garden, situated in the just proper amount of sunlight in a downtown backyard. Heavenly.

Not long after that, I hunkered down on my knees with a basket next to me and happily picked some gorgeous, almost burstingly ripe roma tomatoes, some summery yellow lemon boys and a couple of beefsteak tomatoes. All sat in the basket with me next to it, in the sun, enjoying the few remaining summery hours of the afternoon. I got up to go inside and another scent caught my nose and caused me to turn slightly to my left. Basil. Heaps and heaps of the green leaves were waving in the breeze, waiting to be plucked from their stalks. Beside them was a veritable mountain of spiky parsley, aching to be taken home to my kitchen.

We left that day with smiles on our faces, just at the mere thought of
fresh, garden tomatoes and some really gorgeous parsley and basil. Had I the time and tenacity I would have made pesto that day, but without either I simply whipped up a really delicious, light, summer-filled Caprese Salad. The basil was nice and peppery (I think it might have been a flavoured version - my mom can't simply buy regular basil. I recall seeing pineapple mint and chocolate basil in her cart at one point in the spring) and the tomatoes still held the warmth of the sun. On the plate, drizzled in my own spicy olive oil only made the natural tastes come alive.

S. and I sat on the living room floor together and just devoured this salad. It was a perfect way to see the end of summer come around the corner.

Of course now I have a bag full of the rest of my parents tomatoes...what to do, what to do?