Right now, I am HUGELY jealous of a friend and his prolific tomato patch.
When it comes to tomatoes, it sounds like he could take them or leave them, but to me, they are So. Much. More. than something to tolerate.
In my opinion, one of life's greatest pleasures is walking out to the garden - barefoot, of course - on a warm, sunny summer day, picking a plump, ripe tomato off the wine, smelling that smell that only a fuzzy tomato stalk can leave on your fingers, plopping down in the middle of the grass, using nothing but your shirt to rub the garden dust off, then eating that luscious fruit like it was an apple.
I have no garden, so I must live vicariously.