”Well, there ain’t nothin’ in the world that I like better

Than bacon and lettuce and homegrown tomatoes

Up in the mornin’, out in the garden

Get you a ripe one, hey, don’t get a hard one

Plant ‘em in the spring, eat ‘em in the summer

All winter with out ‘em’s a culinary bummer

I forget all about the sweatin’ and diggin’

Everytime I go out and pick me a big one

Homegrown tomatoes, homegrown tomatoes

What’d life be without homegrown tomatoes

Only two things that money can’t buy

And that’s true love and homegrown tomatoes”

I couldn’t have said it better, Guy Clark. The Texas singer-songwriter and I share a love of garden-fresh tomatoes. But sadly, this year, we have no garden at the Horton house.

We typically grow tomatoes, peppers, corn, purple-hull peas, green beans and squash.

But our move to Brookhaven caught us in the middle of planting season. We were unpacking boxes when we should have been tilling dirt.

There will be no BLT sandwiches this summer, no fresh peas served with a dollop of mayo, no grilled corn, no fried squash. My mouth drools at the thought of such a feast.

In theory, we could have planted a few tomatoes and peppers and had a late-season harvest. But with the chores of settling into a new home, there just hasn’t been time.

In summers past, our evenings revolved around the garden. There was always something to pick, weeds to hoe and tomatoes to water. Our children were practically raised in our gardens.

The great conservation writer Aldo Leopold once wrote: “There are two spiritual dangers in not owning a farm. One is the danger of supposing that breakfast comes from the grocery, and the other that heat comes from the furnace.”

I’ve applied Leopold’s quote to gardens as well. There is something indescribably satisfying about planting a seed, watering it and then eating the fruits of your labor. It’s something we’ve tried to ensure our children appreciate. We want them to know that food doesn’t simply come from the grocery store. Someone, somewhere planted a seed, cared for the tender shoots that first poked through the loose dirt, and eventually harvested the fruit or vegetable.

It’s a beautiful process that we’re sadly missing out on this summer. Though I won’t necessarily miss the unavoidable fire ant bites that accompany gardening, or the non-stop sweating that gardening produces. But I will miss seeing our children run from the garden with a bushel full or peas. Or a bucket full of ripe tomatoes. Or a wheelbarrow full of corn.

So if any of you out there have a garden that needs a little work, I’ve got a house full of experienced gardeners just itching to get their hands dirty. I’d be willing to trade their labor for a homegrown tomato.

Luke Horton is the publisher of The Daily Leader.