Reflections on a gift of cherry tomatoes...

It seems that it was indeed a good day to come into the office - after the long, lazy Memorial Day weekend. One of my clients just dropped by with a lovely basket of just-picked (warm!), homegrown cherry tomatoes! It was a lovely surprise - and I hadn't seen her in awhile - so we had a nice visit and a handful of sweet little tomatoes. As you can see - the basket is still about half full, but I'm slowly savoring the treat. Actually, Linda's visit reminded me (and hence the title of this first post) of a book I had in high school called Reflections on a Gift of Watermelon Pickle. I had misplaced it, but rediscovered it in the move from the house to the condo (and storage). I meant to bring it to the office, but it found its way into a box and is now in the storage unit - somewhere. Anyhow, the book was full of the free verse poetry that was popular in the 1970s. I had also discovered beatnik poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti back then along with his Coney Island of the Mind. Of course, my mother thought that reading poetry, much less ever aspiring to write it, was a weird, waste of time. I will admit that I do still read it now and then, but my efforts at writing it are limited mainly to nonsensical songs that I sing to the dogs or a recent confession to a friend who markets Melaleuca: "Alas, the truth I have to tell - I hate the smell of Sol-U-Mel."