There was a time, believe it or not, some thirty-five years ago (wow … that was extremely painful to write), when I dreamed of corner offices and coffee-fueled deadlines. I was a freshman at Lipscomb University majoring in pre-law and public relations, and fancied myself quite the corporate girlie.

Cue pencil skirts, leather planners, and a dream of someday arguing in front of a judge (or at least running a stylish PR firm in stilettos).

Of course, God had other plans. I married while still in college, and my degree went on the back burner (completely my decision) as we grew our family, totally running on coffee-fueled deadlines. I finally walked across that graduation stage at the age of thirty-six, after getting all four of our kids settled in elementary and middle school. I finished with a degree in mass communications and history, a bit watered down from my original path, years in the making, and every bit worth it.

I do use that degree now as a teacher, and if you’ve ever tried explaining the causes of the American Revolution to 8th graders, it’s kind of like going before a judge.

But, with no degree required, my favorite role by far?

Country woman, gardener, and farm wife.

It’s a far cry from the corporate ladder, but for a life-long foodie like me, farm life fits just right. I love preparing meals where I know not only the recipe, but the story behind every ingredient. I know which row the squash came from. I know which chicken laid the egg. I know when the tomatoes were picked, because I picked them myself.

Which brings me to the humble, glorious, can’t-be-beat homegrown tomato.

Let’s just get this out of the way: I’ve become a full-on tomato snob. Those pale, waxy “fresh” tomatoes in the winter and even the summer at the grocery store? Absolutely not. They taste of blandness and disappointment. Like a promise broken. Most are not even grown in the United States! I’d rather go without than pretend. So, I generally do.

But in the summer? Oh, what a difference the sun makes. I slice a tomato thick and eat it plain with a sprinkle of salt. I toss them in cucumber salads and pile them on egg sandwiches. Audley likes his with a fried egg, and I have to admit, he’s onto something. My daughter’s steal them and even one of my sons-in-law, who claims he doesn’t like tomatoes, makes an exception for the real thing when I put them on the table.

But my favorite dish of all? A simple caprese salad: sun-warmed tomatoes just off the vine, fresh basil freshly picked from the garden, real mozzarella (none of that shredded stuff), and a drizzle of high-quality balsamic vinegar. And when I say high-quality, I mean dark, thick, syrupy goodness, not the watery kind that runs off your food before it hits your fork.

Recently, Pinterest (and TikTok) have been teasing me with photos of peaches and tomatoes together. So, I figured, why not? It just looks like a perfect combination. We picked up a bushel of peaches from Lane’s Southern Orchard in Fort Valley, Georgia, last weekend as Audley and I traveled home from the National Beta Club convention in Orlando, and let me tell you, it’s a match made in southern heaven.

Taking a nod from social media, here is my new summertime dish that I can’t get enough of; try adding peaches to your caprese salad. Yes, peaches! I started layering thick slivers of those beautiful peaches right alongside my vine-ripened tomatoes, and y’all… the flavors literally danced in my mouth. The sweet, juicy peach meets the tangy acidity of the tomato, all balanced with mozzarella, fragrant, julienned basil, coarse sea salt, cracked black pepper, and that thick balsamic drizzle. It’s elegant, colorful, unexpected, and downright addictive. You must try it yourself. Truly. You’ll be so glad you did!

So today I’m celebrating changing paths, discovering a life I never knew I would love, and homegrown tomatoes, especially mixed with peaches. They may not wear suits or carry briefcases, but they are absolutely the boss of my kitchen.

And I wouldn’t trade that for all the corner offices in the world.