We had spent the morning picking tomatoes. Heaven only knows that we don’t need any more of them. We now have the patio table on our back deck full of ripening tomatoes. We have an old bi-fold closet door on the deck full of ripening tomatoes. We have made a couple batches of salsa. We have made enough spaghetti sauce to last us three years. We have filled up all of our empty jars with canned tomatoes. We have a batch of BBQ sauce cooking as I write this. We have taken tomatoes into town and left them at Page County Tire for their customers to take. We have given boxes of tomatoes to Mrs. C and four other neighbors. When we drive onto people’s yards we see them peek out the window and not answer the door. We decided to plant less tomatoes next year.
After having a busy morning and left over pizza for lunch, I treated myself to an afternoon nap. I was just getting into it when the Pickle Queen woke me. She said a car had driven up to the house and I should see what they want.
A nicely dressed young man came up the stairs and knocked on the door. I opened it and the young man said, “Hello sir, I’m a Jehovah’s Witness.”
Knowing what it feels like to be less than warmly welcomed when you drive onto a yard, I said, “Come in and sit down.” The PQ had made a fresh batch of banana and yellow squash quick breads yesterday so I offered him a cup of coffee and some banana/squash bread. As I sat down with him I asked, “What do you want to talk about?”
He said, “Beats me. Nobody’s ever let me in before.”
Keep your fork