My parents and grandparents had gardens, and when I could, I did, also. In my seven decades I have come to hold dear the taste of fresh vegetables. To me, more than anything else, corn and tomatoes taste like summer. Thanks to my cousin Christine and her son, Jon, I am getting to eat August: bread with olive oil, grilled, rubbed with garlic, topped with juicy slices of tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, basil, and salt; and corn on the cob with butter and salt. I won't – I can't – eat either unless they are locally grown and in season ... preferably organic. When I do, I swoon and savor every bite. It’s sacred. And it gives my taste buds orgasms.