Monday, November 3, 2014
While pulling and cutting the beans - purple pole beans, lablab and scarlet runner - and cardinal vine from the birch pole screen yesterday afternoon I collected some pods, to see what seeds I might be able to save, for next year. I could hear the New York City Marathon, at the end of the block. It took just fifteen minutes to undo what took several months to grow. It was cold and my fingers burned.
On their teepees the Malabar spinach vines had collapsed overnight, so those came out, too. I have purple finger tips, from picking their seedfruit from their juicy stems. The jewelweed and basil plants looked blasted, the tall asters had fallen over. Out, out, out.
The allegedly heat-loving nasturtiums and Cape gooseberries are still fine, and the cilantro is thriving.
I'll wait a while before I lift the lilies. Their leaves are still bright green, and feeding the bulbs.
Late next week I will be in another season, another hemisphere, another garden. As usual, that seems implausible. I am just getting used to our early-darkness twinkly lights. But I'll be back before Christmas, and I think I'll need them, then.