The last of the tomatoes and basil are coming in from the garden. The overnight temps in the Archipelago are sinking fast and the days for harvesting are numbered.
After I picked what was ready, I made a tomato, basil and fresh mozzarella sandwich on a few slices of crusty Italian bread with a drizzling of the best olive oil I have.
Why does the first and the last of something you spent cooking, brewing or cultivating taste so good?
Longing makes the palate grow fonder, and farewells are sweet but sorrowful.
Thank you God for my garden this year.