Gardens can do much for a person: they yield fruit, they give satisfaction, they give abundant opportunity for hard work and problem-solving. They are also a study in the circle of life. I've thought a lot about this lately. It really was the basis for doing the garden in the first place. We plant, we reap, we recycle. The zucchini plants that gave us such tasty veggies are now in the composter, busy becoming nutrients for next year's crop.
I checked on the garden this morning. Many green tomatoes, some with blossom-end rot. This is a calcium deficiency. No one seems to know how to fix or avoid it. I confess to some frustration. The herbs are almost a complete success. Tomorrow I will harvest some dill and cukes and make some fresh pickles for our ladies. The sweet potatoes should be done soon and the rutabagas are almost ready to harvest.
My dog died on Friday. I am not one to accept death with any kind of philosophical musings. Black Jack had a great heart and he loved me with all of it. He had nothing to do with this garden, but he was much loved by the gardener.
Life goes on.