Summer means gardening for us. I wish I could say that without the knowing smile, for our “gardening” is still quite rudimentary. It’s about like saying I’m a cyclist because I manage to hop on a bike once or twice a month.

Our gardening consists of a few pepper plants, a watermelon vine or two,

perhaps a cantaloupe, and maybe a few spices, especially basil. Next to cilantro, basil has to be the best, freshest-smelling herb that exists. Apparently I’m not the only one who thinks so: K came in today with a caterpillar who’d devoured a basil plant.

“Why are you upset?” ask L.

“Because a beast was eating our basil!” K responded.

“What’s it for?” L inquired further.

“For cooking, not for caterpillars,” explained K.

“But you should share,” replied the sage.

The trouble is, we don’t have enough basil to share. We don’t have enough watermelon to share, nor cantaloupe. Our peppers are sparse too, but that’s really for a different reason.

The tomatoes. The only thing we have enough to share is taking over our small raised beds. One vine alone requires six to eight stakes: each fork in the vine turns enormous and fruit-laden.

We head out daily to pick the tomatoes. We’re growing three varieties, including sweet, bright cherry tomatoes. Most of these rarely make it to the house:

we munch on them so while we’re picking the rest of the tomatoes that hardly any are left when we make it back to the kitchen.

All the same, two days can produce enough tomatoes to overwhelm quickly.

This is what K tried to explain to L this evening: “We do share. We give tomatoes to Nana and Papa, to A and P, to the chipmunks and squirrels…”

And still we end up with so many every couple of days. Then again, who can complain about this? Quarter a fresh tomato and sprinkle salt and pepper: a perfect summer snack.