An excess of tomatoes and who says carrots have to be orange?

The tomatoes are coming in. I suppose they actually arrived last week (or maybe even the week before) but today I stood surrounded by buckets of red, orange, yellow, green and splattered heirlooms (the best ones!) and my jaw dropped.
"Henry! This is a lot of tomatoes."
Henry is Harriet's hubby, her words, and he comes in on Thursdays to help with CSAs. He is a large man, shouting greetings upon seeing you and laughing often. He stood up, smiled and shook his head. We have many, many tomato plants on the farm and, still, it's pretty amazing how much food they can produce. Duh, stupid-frick Alvin. There will be more tomatoes. Oh yes, says Henry, there will be tomatoes.
So I picked, washed, packed beets, among other normal Thursday things to do on the farm (ask Matty K. if you don't know) and wiped, inspected, packaged the tomatoes. I did so standing next to the trailer that had every space filled with garlic, the gigantic, ever-whirling industrial fan setting them to dry and cure. Yep. Garlic, wiping down lovely tomatoes, Alyssa pulling leeks from the cooler every now and then, Matty washing and wrapping up basil, Harriet pulling in with green peppers, white peppers, PURPLE peppers. EGGPLANTS! I thought of a hundred cheesy love songs to sing to the symphony of flavors and aromas, dancing about there on the garden. Me, the deeply-tanned Asian, wearing a hairnet over his unbridled mane, cheerily wiping down a Cherokee Chocolate - the best name for a tomato variety ever - and (softly, but passionately) singing Barry Manilow.

No jolts, no surprises
No crisis arises - the years go along as they should
It's all very nice, but not very good...

Annnnd I'm ready to take a chance again,
ready to put my love on the line with you
Been living with nothing to show for it,
you get what you get when you go for it,
and I'm ready to take a chance again with you.

Yes, when you are moved to simultaneously take pictures and cook, it is a good thing. I've read that they go bonkers in Italy when the first tomato harvest comes in. They gather and celebrate and speak loudly with lavish hand motions and drink wine and play music and hug and laugh and cook! I need you to help me!

Or anyway, I hope you are well.
Eat a good tomato in the simplest way you can, wherever you are.
And here I'll be, slices of red, orange, yellow, green, pink, black and swirly colored
with basil, olive oil, salt and vinegar.

If we get spinach after the weekend, BLTs. (Sioux Centerites, let's pack 'em up and go fishing!)

Love!