The fate of these fruits is to either be eaten with garden soil still sticking to the shoes, standing in the kitchen with salt shaker in hand. Or, to be handled, heated and canned; a process that turns these garden gods into something that smacks of immortal. (Until of course, one gets a hankering for bottled summer and pops the seal.)
But for now we garden. Coaxing water, tugging weeds, and in general marveling at this fleet of little friends that find life in dirt, sun and water.
By the by-thanks to Emma for the lovely feature on me today-flattered to be included with a such a lovely group of ladies.