After another unseasonably warm weekend, Fall is in the air this morning. The garden is long past prime, weary of the growing from the previous months.
My raggedy plants have little left to harvest, though there are still tomato blooms, which is lovely though not especially promising, given the late date of the season.
The green tomatoes that remain are in a race against time; there is a frost warning for Tuesday night. I expect that this is the final garden report for the 2017 season.
I’ll pick everything left before the chill descends and offer thanks for the garden season that was even as I begin my daydreams and planning for the next garden season. That’s the beauty of a garden; it’s a place for patient hopes and dreams.
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