Our first farm in Massachusetts was called Plum Hill Farm, for the beachplums, and every summer we held what was called The Great Plum Hill Tomato Toss. It works like this: You gather your own kids (or, ahem, grandkids) together with their friends and kids from the neighborhood and run down to the garden to collect as many rotten or half-rotten tomatoes as you can find. Then you all form a circle outside the house, each with a tomato in hand, and on signal everyone underarm-tosses their tomatoes into the sky above. The only rule is you can’t look up; whatever happens, happens.
Keep this in mind for late summer. You cannot imagine the laughter.
(Are we really supposed to grow up, or is that optional?)