It’s been an odd season for gardens.  At least for me.  The cooler, wet summer didn’t lend to the typical garden journal entries.

(No, I don’t really keep one of those)

(But, I should)

It never got hot enough for my okra.  That and a tenacious goat eating it back at the beginning of the summer.  But I had squash running out my ears.  Yellow and zucchini!  Too much for us to eat.  Or the goats.  Or to give away.  The zucchini was much more ambitious about growing than I was about picking it.

The purple hull peas have been my constant this summer.  Easy to pick.  Meditative to shell.  Comforting to eat cooked with onions, peppers, and bacon.  There should always be bacon.  And buttered cornbread.

This after noon I have uncharacteristically found my self alone in my house.  This rarely happens without careful planning.  And I’m enjoying watching Love Actually. Which is both wonderful and heartbreaking at the same time.

I’ve shamefully let the tomatoes go.  Most are rotting and withering on the vine.  Draped with sticky spiderwebs and hopping with stink bugs and grasshoppers.  Tonight I picked the few read ones that were viable and all the green ones hoping to put them in a pickle with the sweet peppers and a jalapeno or two.

So my dinner for one is in celebration of the summer garden.  To be thankful for what it has given us this season and for the lessons learned.