“What are these new things?” Eric said as he came in and his eyes fell on the little gathering on the counter.

“Potato berries. Well, potato fruits. They’re poisonous,” I added unnecessarily as he picked them up and inspected them. “I found them lying on the ground in the potato patch. Along with that potato on the top of the soil. I really need to harvest some potatoes.”

The other thing in the pile was the first tomatillo out of the garden, otherwise known as the first volunteer for salsa verde. (“Aren’t you tired of salsa yet?” “Never!”) The pears are falling down and turning to mush, the corn is drying in place, the squash have all yielded to the slimy embrace of the squash borer (except the Stella Blue Hokkaido, which has one solitary fruit hanging from a corn plant because I let it do as it pleased and what it pleased was evidently to climb). And I am collecting seeds and starting to think about fall. But the tomatillo is just getting started.

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