At dinner last night, I told DH that the large cantaloupe has suddenly begun to ripen.  “Another day or two and we’ll have some for dessert,” I told him. 

     Despite the heat, DH came out later to join me in the garden.  He climbed onto his mobility scooter and went to check out the melon patch.  “That melon sure looks good.  It’s much bigger than the other four.”

     “I lifted it and it is hefty.  I can almost taste it.”  I walked alongside him, and pointed out to him which tomato plants were which—Beefsteak, Big Boys, and the heirlooms.

     He drove over to the back porch and checked out the potted plum tomatoes.  “Think I can pick a few of these for my Mom?”

     “Those aren’t ripe enough.  I already picked some for her they’re on the kitchen counter.  Just the plum tomatoes and the Beefsteak mind you, don’t you dare take my heirlooms.”

     “She likes the plum tomatoes the best.”

     “Good, that means you can leave the Beefsteak too.”

     He laughed.  “You are bad.”

     “Yeah, but can I help it that I love tomatoes?”