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The Poacher
At the same time my home-grown tomatoes are ripening, we have learned Sam has an insatiable desire for them. He smacks his lips when I slice them at dinner. He taps around after me around when I pick them. And––he sucks them straight off the vine. I'd be mad at the furry poacher except that he's the only one in the house who shares my August obsession. We've always understood each other well, that dog.
1 comment:
Does he put a little salt on them too? Nothing better than Indiana tomatos in August.
Always, Robin
btw...love the new bag!
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