We’re well into tomato season in the garden. Not to the point of hurling them at passersby, yet close.
Amish Paste, German Pink, Mortgage Lifter, Black Krim, Speckled Roman, Granadero, Boxcar Willie, Abe Lincoln, Martha Washington and other tomato varieties sound exotic. Each is vying for best of crop and a repeat planting next year.
The hard work of the garden is finished. With temperatures in the 90s, we stay indoors and dream most of each day.
I’ve taken to looking at the sky. It is a reminder of how small humans are, how Earth is a single ecosystem. I could look at clouds all day, at least until a nagging human condition urges me to do something else.
Most of us will get through the coronavirus pandemic. What then? We’ll need August dreams to find out.
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