Photos by Stephanie Klein-Davis | The Roanoke Times

Carol Quesenberry, a fan of tomato sandwiches, said she stops by her neighbor's produce table "about every other day."

Dave Asbury grows tomatoes and other produce in his 4,000-square-foot garden along Yellow Mountain Road in Roanoke County. The 52-year-old trusts his customers to use the honor system in paying, putting their money in a mailbox bolted to the table. A sign touts his wares as organic, and he has sold about 800 pounds worth this year.

Dan Casey is The Roanoke Times' metro columnist.

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Eva Ferris was heading to a yard sale last weekend when she spotted the small white sign along Yellow Mountain Road, just outside the Roanoke city limits.

"Home Grown (Organic) TOMATOES $1.00 LB."

A few feet down a small patch of gravel stood an umbrella-shaded table beneath a broad box elder tree.

It bore another hand-lettered sign: "SELF SERVICE," next to a locked steel mailbox with a broad slot in the top. An ancient scale hung from a twig wedged into the umbrella's spine.

"For him to do that, it just warms your heart," the longtime Garden City resident said. "For somebody to have that much trust in their fellow man -- you don't see that much anymore."

"Him" is Dave Asbury, 52, a self-employed masonry contractor who has lots of tomatoes but very little time.

The garden project began about eight years ago and at first supplied Asbury's family, then friends and neighbors. But as it grew, he found he had more than he could give away.

This is the second season he's sold the mouth-watering fruit next to his house, all on the honor system.

On the table are pink beefsteaks and red jet stars and supersonics, as well as a dizzying variety of differently hued heirlooms. They go by names such as great white and black Russian krim and some others. Some peppers and squash, too.

About 800 pounds worth so far. No pesticide. No fertilizer. All blooming from tons of dirt Asbury trucked in from the Roanoke River's flood-reducing bench cut.

"I really don't think not one tomato's ever been stolen," the gardening hobbyist told me Tuesday as we walked through his weed-choked gardens and surveyed his 225 tomato plants.

If one has, well, "dishonest people have to eat, too," Asbury said. "It ain't about the money. That's why they're a dollar a pound."

What it's about is therapy. He described himself as "hyperkinetic, attention deficit, whatever you call it. I have to have something to do."

The divorced man lives alone in a house he built at 4461 Yellow Mountain Road.

When Asbury's not busting up concrete or fashioning custom stone fountains or other creations at homes in South Roanoke, he plants or transplants or harvests.

And on occasion he merely sits in his detached garage with the door open, a beer in hand, and watches and listens as nature happens. You can sense the peace here.

Dozens of hummingbirds make daily visits to a bushy morning glory vine that climbs up the side of his modest brick house. Chirping yellow finches attack his tall, bright sunflowers, or the 40 pounds of seed he puts out weekly for them.

Buzzing bees flit between perennials that surround his tomato patch -- one of Asbury's strategies to assure pollination. Deer amble by silently, especially in the fall, when they scavenge falling fruit from some nearby apple trees.

The tomatoes come from seeds Asbury nurtures in flats in the hothouse. Early this spring, he used the self-service stand to sell tomato plants -- about 2,500 of them, for $3 to $3.50 a dozen.

Listening to him, you can detect hints of pride he takes in the notion that tomatoes all over the valley had origins in his back yard.

"You can take a handful of seeds and with nature's help you can get a ton of produce out of it. That's the fun in it for me," Asbury said.

Asbury's honor stand is unusual in that it's so close the city, but it's far from unique in this region. His friend Bo Finch has one in the Springwood area of Botetourt County. A few others -- in Floyd County, the New River Valley or elsewhere -- operate as closely guarded neighborhood secrets.

Tuesday evening, Asbury unlocked the mailbox, which is bolted to the tomato table. The day's earnings were about $13, he reckoned, surveying the bills and coins he dumped into a small peach basket.

"It does that about every day," he said.

The tomatoes are just about gone now. Asbury figured he's got about a week's worth left. He's already making plans for next year.

He wants to get some chickens and sell their eggs, maybe lower the scale a bit so some of his lady customers can reach it more easily. He may put out some apples in fall, and sell them for 25 cents a pound, like he did last year.

All on the honor system.

One of his customers late Tuesday afternoon was Mike Doss of Franklin County. A few minutes earlier, Doss' wife had phoned and reminded him to make sure "I picked up some of those tomatoes."

Doss weighed about 2 pounds worth, then dropped some bills in the slot at the top of the mailbox slot.

"Our tomatoes haven't done good this year," he explained.

"I'm better off just buying here. At a dollar a pound, you can't fool with that."