My garden has apparently not gotten the memo that it’s November. The cherry tomatoes are still clustered like grapes around the top of the compost pile and happily producing like we’re far enough south to avoid a killing frost. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised, at this point, to see this surrounded by snow:

Do you see the little yellow flowers? Baby tomatoes, y’all. In November. I have them in all stages–flowers, green, almost ripe. I had ripe ones, but I picked them before I took pictures. They went right into the oven for roasting. I was going to can them next, but I think I’ll just make soup.

This is the rest of the garden. The bushy green on the left is the feverfew that managed to self-seed somehow. Just beside it is a little patch of purplish green; that’s lettuce. The basil seems to have given up, but the sage and chocolate mint are going strong. They’re hiding the potatoes I stuck in the ground a month or so ago, and the onion I must have missed earlier but is still going strong.

On one hand, I’m shaking my head that it’s still going. On a deeper level, I think I’m supposed to learn that I should keep working and not worry about the frost that will be along to kill me any night.


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