No tomatoes yet. My first ripe tomato last year was July 9 or 11, depending on which one you’re counting. I have mentioned this to Eric multiple times. “It was a really cold, wet spring,” he has reminded me several times. My mother-in-law around the corner has ripe cherry tomatoes. She bought the biggest plants Anderson had, admittedly, but mine are bigger now and I feel it’s just not fair.

Nevertheless, I’m waiting. Eric told me the other day that he thinks we underestimated how many tomatoes we needed to grow for everything we wanted to make. “You know what we forgot?” he said and paused dramatically. “Gazpacho!” I didn’t forget it, but perhaps something made him long for it–the hot, sticky day at the zoo Saturday, perhaps. We went with friends and flopped down in the cool air conditioning when we got back. I served garden carrots and our pickles and they were thoroughly approved. Also grilled zucchini, and corn from the farmer’s market, because mine is tantalizingly close but it isn’t ready yet. No tomatoes, no corn. Jalapenos hanging out with nothing to accompany them. Mosquitos having a grand old time. It’s almost August and where is my glut of produce? Maybe I’m too impatient to be a good gardener.

At least I’m doing well with herbs and cucumbers. I froze chopped dill and chopped basil in ice cube trays with water, and the basil did not turn black, for anyone who is also looking for ways to preserve fresh herbs for later. I must make my favorite quinoa salad with fresh herbs again, before the dill is irrevocably lost. We’re pickling more this week, so that’ll help. I also finally came up with the right onion-dill bread recipe to replace the Jungle Jim’s loaves we long for, which will also help. But as good as the bread is, what I really want is a tomato to slice over it.