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Home-grown

Isn’t it amazing how our memory works?

Sometimes while trying to remember someone’s name or a telephone number I really have to dig deep into the files of my memory and it takes a while to get to the correct information (sometimes I don’t 😦 )  A sensory memory, by contrast, can transport me right back to my childhood decades ago.

Like the smell of tomatoes ripened on the vine.  Untouched by harmful pesticides and genetic manipulation that mass production cannot get away from.

Some time ago Meraai walked in with a shopping bag heavy with promise and when she handed it to me I saw the smooth, round, red fruits inside.  Grown by her husband in a flower-pot in the backyard they were not all the same size – and all the more beautiful for it!

I opened the bag and when I smelled the tomatoes I was instantly transported to a time long, long ago when my father used to farm with tomatoes…

Suddenly I was standing in the barn where the tomatoes used to be packed.  The flavour of the ripe tomato in my hand filled my nostrils and the juice dripped from my chin as I bit into it.  A drop of juice landed on my right foot and made a splatter pattern in the dust on my bare foot.  Around me was the buzz of workers packing tomatoes into wooden tomato boxes and in the background cicadas loudly proclaimed their love for the sun.

George’s tomatoes didn’t disappoint!  Later that day I ate one of my gifted tomatoes like I did all those years ago in the barn – biting right into it and savouring the taste of the home-grown tomato with my eyes closed…  I suffered from nostalgia for the rest of the day 🙂  Thank you George and Meraai!

Now I know even better why I cherish my veggie patch so much and I really hope to produce veggies in abundance so that I can share some with you too, my treasured friends 😉

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