It was merely a moment, I swear. I looked away for a moment and Summer in Colorado tapped out with a 14 degree morning. We went from this:
To this in a heart-beat. And I didn't even have the decency to be in town when the Frozen North decided to invade my back yard.
(High Desert, my ass!)
The peppers looked like Weeping Willows, the tomatoes turned taupe before going all Onan on me and spilling their seeds upon the ground.
Asta, this year's pumpkin patch, produced beautiful, if small, pumpkins. (Late Start.)
The damned vines went everywhere in the yard. It took me half an hour to unravel Sadie from the clutches of one.
Now, the pumpkins are gone, too, most decorating the front porch where passerby say,
"Where did you get such cute, tiny pumpkins?"
There are a lot of things I'd love to say, but I haven't got the heart.
This season's butterfly garden fared just a bit better through the cold snap. A few colors remain. I plan to follow the old rule for perennials: in the fall, leave 'em tall. Last year, the guys cleaning up the yard decided to take them out and we had to start from scratch again.
This is how Life Among the Peppers looked just before we headed off for a weekend trip to NOLA. It was a wonderful weekend, but quite the surprise upon our return a mere 72 hours later.
And, I must say, despite the Frigidaire weekend, we had a great crop of sweet potatoes. They may be tiny, but they is mighty.
Now, the peppers are gone.
That is sad, I must say. The Oaxacans were wonderful.
So are all the potatoes.
And, all three gardens have grown quiet.
The garden geegaws have moved into the garage.
And the boys have split for the season -- Furious George is off to Petaluma to reprise his award-winning role of Henry Fonda in "Jane, What the Hell Are You Doing Now?" at The Little Theatre of Middlin' Actors.
While Mr. Bitterman is off to Anaheim to visit his Mom and Uncle Jimmy and to pick up work at Disneyland as a talking bird in The Enchanted Tiki Room. Alternate Tuesdays, he'll fill in for Rongo the Polynesian God of Agriculture on the Lanai.
As for us, we'll dream of good days gone by and the good days yet to come -- when the Spring Seed Catalogs finally arrive.
As well as rereading Katharine S. White's lovely book on waiting for those Seed Catalogs and other pieces from the glory days of The New Yorker.
Oh, I'll wait, ever so patiently, for the return of Spring.