Lament of Late Summer

The garden centers started shaking off the snow in February, putting out seeds, bags of special soils, and little biodegradable pots. It was serious in March. A week without dropping below 40F forced my hand into prepping the soil and putting some hardy plants in. By April, they were all in. Everything seemed slow to take off, but in May, volunteer tomato plants were popping up everywhere. Many were replanted into rows rounding out my number into 24. June and July was weeding, hoisting up heavy branches and tying them off, fighting off local groundhogs and watering during the long droughts. Those lasted into August, but the tomatoes started turning red nonetheless. Fresh tomato slices on bread toasted in oil was frequently on the table. Quickly, each week, sometimes twice, a bushel of tomatoes made its way into the kitchen to be blanched, peeled, cored, and cooked down to a very sweet base for spaghetti sauce or salsa. Then it was September. I pulled off another bushel one day and noticed that it was pretty easy to get them. All of the full, green growth that for so long dominated the yard was falling away limp and yellowing. There’s maybe another batch of sauce out there. Maybe not. I’ve run out of jars anyway.

Time to hunker down. Fall is here.