It's a time of year when gardeners grow desperate and start behaving badly, something most likely to do with BLT poisoning.
Most Iowa police calls about suspicious packages left in public places during late August and early Setpember involve bags or boxes of tomatoes, deposited by growers who couldn't stand to see them rot on the vine.
People who otherwise would not consider breaking and entering sneak in back doors, then out again, leaving behind up to a dozen on kitchen counters.
Guests sometimes are invited (or allowed to leave) only if they promise to take a few tomatoes home with them when they go.
I picked these in a couple of minutes yesterday in the museum's heirloom garden. There are at least six varieties represented and plenty more where they came from, plus a pepper or two and a crookneck squash (I ate the little personal-size melon brought up, too; it smelled too good to resist). Besides, I felt obligated to make sure it was ripe.
No one leaves this morning's historical society board meeting without taking tomatoes home with them. Life just works that way sometimes.