Number one still defines the space. For now.
It's been cool this summer, but dry.
Even this past week of highs in the low 80s,
cool nights refresh, but the garden still needs water.
And it produces--abundantly.
The second crop of raspberries
pull the canes to the ground.
Romano pole beans hang
like the ice-sickles of Spring claiming Winter.
Cabbage heads are full to bursting.
Tomatoes, green, pink and red--
some on the ground, half-eaten by squirrels.
Peppers, butternut squash,
carrots, beets.
Zucchini.
Still push to outgrow the season.
I wish that when the days were longer
I had had more time to weed and prune and plan
for the harvest. Now it comes.
How many weeks?
One more cold moon?
Maybe.
Before the frost
that ends this cycle.
Freezer packs
and hot pot's aroma.
Satisfaction of nurturing the garden life
and sweet berries for breakfast.
Yes.
.
