Here we are, a link on the chain between our ancestors and our descendants, eating tomatoes in a cradle in a brief crack of light. (I never thought I'd be the kind of person to put clothes on a dog, but I never thought about a dog needing clothes.) This kind of weather tells me that I probably won't have another fresh tomato - or rather another real tomato - until next summer.īut the weather has nothing to do with it: each tomato could be your last. My dog, who is from Puerto Rico and who loves the snow but not the cold, wore a little green jacket that makes him look like Peter Pan. I wore mittens to walk the dog this morning. Now I bid farewell to the tomato, that gentle engorged Peruvian berry. In my last post I said goodbye to peaches, or at least to fresh ones. "The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness."
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