I pulled out my tomatoes on Saturday. I hadn’t gone into the garden intending to do this–I had gone to pick beans, of which there were plenty, and parsley, of which I may have all, but I noticed holes in the green tomatoes and decided to pick the good ones to preserve them from further pillage, and noticed that one of the plants had gone brown, and things escalated from there. That cherry tomato was dug the firmest into the ground of any of them. What a monster. I think I’m glad I’m not growing it next year.

I also moved the solitary rose on our property from the side of the house where its branches kept growing into the driveway to the daylily bed in the back. It’s probably going to die; I hadn’t realized rose roots grew that woody and hard and deep, and it was in an exceedingly awkward place for digging.

I also finalized the paths for the herb garden. Didn’t transplant the herbs as I meant to, because I had to go pumpkin-carving for the Metropark I volunteer at. (I’m to lead lantern tours next weekend for the Ghosts of Providence program. Should be fun.) I did stop at a farm stand on the way back–it was a beautiful drive, and I noticed that some trees were bare, meaning that fall is stealth-here despite the weather–and buy two small squash, a buttercup and an ambercup, the latter a mesmerizing orange-red. I haven’t eaten squash more than once or twice before, if you don’t count pumpkin pie, but I want to try it. And then if I like them I’ll save the seeds. I figure either I got a squash for $1 and seeds for free or seeds for $1 and the flesh for free. Either way, it’s a good deal.

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