This photo is emblematic of of a declining garden. The fading sunset glow barely shines the west side fence, but didn't reach the withering garden; no sunshine smile on the boxwood basil. One can see the last lonely zinnia of summer in this area. The thick trellis blocks the sun that hastens the demise of the zinnias, which requires full sun to survive and thrive. Now the trellis is thinning, as is the fence.
One Italian squash rests its head on the stepping block, the other lies down comfortably with support, growing old together. The old squashes never die, they just fade away; they carry the seeds, the future, the next generation; life goes on. Where have all the tomatoes gone?
Katy tapped this watermelon and came to a conclusion that it is ripen. We said our thanks; without pomp and circumstance except a camera; the scissors cut and the watermelon fell. It is surprisingly sweet and tasty; comparable or better than many of the watermelons we consumed this summer.
Visiting our garden, Paula (who is home visiting her mom) said we have five hundred dollars worth of basil in our garden. Of course, she was exaggerating it, but we do have basil here and there, every where, and we do not even know how to eat it except spreading it on the spaghetti. Paula made pesto sauce for us and Katy has learned the trick.
I saw Paula pinching off the flowers of the basil as she walked by. Then I realized that Janice has asked us to do that a while back, as flowering may alter its taste or even give a somewhat bitter taste.
