Tired of tomatoes

Summer was short and tomato season was short, along with the tomatoes themselves. The successful plants in my garden were all cherry and grape tomatoes that came up from last year's seeds. I ate them in salads, gave the split ones to chickens and a few to the dogs--but not many because the high acid content can upset even iron-lined Airedale tummies--and added them to recipes from my new cookbook.

That's Tuscan bean stew from the book. Some of the green stuff is organic kale from the grocery store because I didn't have time to get to the market. Never again. A handful of leaves from the neighbor's poplar trees could not have been more tough and chewy.
I think even the chickens are tired of tomatoes because when I threw a handful into the pen this morning, they cocked their heads instead of rushing to eat, going, "What, those again? How about some leftover parrot food instead?"

I also turned Alanis into Fuzzdog by brushing her out. After you get an Airedale all brushed and fluffed, the first thing she does is go to the water bowl and drench her face so that she can walk away dripping from chin dreadlocks and ruining the photo op. In dog language, that's a relaxed dog, tail and ears neither high nor low, muscles loose. Standing or lying on the grooming table while a person brushes, plucks, trims and--horrors!--Dremels the toenails must be hard work.