Some things can't be postponed. One of these is de-heading the garlic chives soon after they bloom. If left alone, they will spread seed everywhere. Invasive is their middle name.
So I set in to the task and soon realized that everything in the box beds needed attention -- weeding, hoicking out squash and cucumber plants that are past bearing, and getting the beds ready for some fall crops.
The zinnias and nasturtiums above the wall are still blooming away, in spite of someone -- probably a deer -- having eating the tops off the nasturtiums. A little weeding around them and it all looks better.
Just as we've been gorging on fresh summer fruit -- peaches, blueberries, and cherries -- in anticipation of the months ahead when they won't be available, the milder weather we're having now makes me want to play in the dirt while I can.
It's been a somewhat disappointing garden year -- great corn and cucumbers, some peppers and beans, but the real blow was the tomatoes -- or lack thereof. They began so well and just as they started to ripen, critters developed a taste for them, even eating off the blossoms.
We hadn't fenced them off as we did the beans and kale and such, since the only thing that bothered our tomatoes in the past was the blight and the bugs.
As I've said before, to garden is to know loss. But, in a way, almost every worthwhile human experience -- like love, pets, friends -- has that potential.
And yet we persist.