The end of summer means the last of my harvest. Last night was the first below freezing. Today, the grass was crunchy and my trees were abruptly gold-tipped. I've been drowning in massive zucchini; now the onslaught is finally tapering. I'm relieved.
And sad. I love my little garden. I don't know if I'll get another summer with this garden box, the one my husband built me so sweetly when I was pregnant and feeling hyper-nurturing.
It's made from old redwood, the only kind that the base approved - we had to hunt and "steal" it from the old housing area, before the demolition. The lumber lengths we got form an odd rectangle; Husband bolted it together so securely that we can't take the box with us when we next PCS. But, I've finally got the clay-meets-sand soil all doctored up nicely and my plants were so happy this year. *sigh*
So, it felt a little bit sentimental when I plucked my final zucchini this morning. It earned a photo.
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