Finally on this dryish autumn day, the garden called me for a kiss and make-up and I dutifully answered. Clearing out the mostly passed tomatoes, peppers, eggplants, and herbs, a few final gifts were offered as a sure sign of appreciation. And as usual, I was filled with gratitude for this miraculous gift nature provides. Our time apart reminds me of our codependent relationship and I know next year I’ll be a better steward. Now that I can actually see the soil, I await patiently for our first hard frost to sweeten the remaining carrots – a treat to quench my craving in the colder months ahead.
My vegetable garden and I weren’t on talking terms this summer. Coming and going, I’d give it the side glance, occasionally noticing something bright to pick. Usually though, my son found the ripe fruits ready for picking. Indignantly, the plants thrived little less than usual as a result of the compost I’d laid heavily in the spring, when I was starving to dig in the dirt and high with visions of a heavily abundant harvest.
As a result of my negligence, I was the one who suffered most. The plants did their thing as I moped in front of the computer screen and inspiration was replaced with guilt.