Since I'm sure you are completely tired hearing of our tomatoes may I present our potatoes!

Our very first garden grown potatoes. The smallest isn't much larger than a penny and the larger one is almost fist sized. Potatoes are strange. You plant a potato (or chunk of one), it sprouts, grows into a crazy little bush, and then it dies. Sometime after the plant dies the digging begins. Dig where the plant was...huh, where's the potatoes? Dig a little to the left or right and you find them tunneling for freedom. Maybe I'm imagining that. Still, why aren't they better organized? Digging for potatoes is like digging for nightcrawlers, you're always on the verge of finding one and then you've cut the choicest one in half.

We have white potatoes and red potatoes. Rub them with olive oil, sprinkle a little salt and rosemary, and bake for an hour. Tasty.