Winding Down the Garden

From the garden: basil, tomatoes, and peppers

 

Our first frost came early Sunday morning. I had been watching the alerts from Saturday morning forward, so I intentionally spent an hour outside Saturday afternoon picking every last pepper and then pulling this year's pepper plants up to go into the yard waste. 

That hour in the garden revealed in no uncertain terms just how much I have neglected the garden this year. The chickweed was everywhere, and that is not me being careless with my words. It truly was everywhere. As I uprooted the peppers, I pulled lots of it too. 

There is still a lot of chickweed plants thriving. A. Lot. Frankly, the chickweed looks better than the pretty beat up looking flowers in the back of the garden. Somewhere in that mess are the remains of one last head of cabbage that got chewed up by bugs before I picked it. And to add insult to injury, for the first time ever, the marigold border is ragged with many marigolds dead. Warren has always taken care of the marigolds, so their neglect speaks to how overloaded his schedule is too. 

Despite the wreckage, I brought in enough peppers to store four quarts of cut peppers in the freezer, besides the additional cup or so for a dish I made last night for supper. 

I clipped back the tomatoes some more, gauging what I may still pick. A few of the larger ones; a few dozen of the cherries. If the weather holds to be fairly mild, if the sun shines, that is. 

I made the decision several weeks ago to let the basil go to flower for the bees. All the same, I handpicked a large bowl of leaves and made one last batch of pesto for 2026. (No surprise, the chickweed surrounded the basil patch, although for the most part the basil easily topped the chickweed in height.)

Sigh.

I am truly on the fence as to how much gardening to do next year. On the one hand, I love fresh tomatoes and peppers. The flowers (cosmos, zinnias, others) cheer me and make our pollinators and birds happy. On the other hand, I need more energy—physical and emotional—to make it viable. 

Sigh.

In another week or so, I will take both a hoe and a rake to the chickweed and remove as much as possible. Chickweed seeds rapaciously, so you cannot just till it under. But we can and will put compost on the garden and till that under afterwards.

As Saturday wore on, the air chilled even more. Warren, an hour away for the dress rehearsal and concert in Mansfield, called to see if I had seen the moon: a silvery waxing half moon. Yes, I replied, adding that I had just put sheets over the tomatoes given the frost warnings. 

Ready for the frost

As always, once the garden is officially down for the year, not only in production but also in cleanup, I will think about what 2027 might hold. I feel I can do better and that is something I need to seriously contemplate. The oncoming winter is a perfect time to look back at the 2026 garden and wonder what I might try in 2027.

And the moon can look over my shoulder all winter long to keep me on track.

Saturday night's moon

A Margin of Time

Rehearsal; Warren is the musician on the very far left

I am penning this out on a pad balanced on my lap, waiting for the Friday night rehearsal of the Mansfield Symphony to begin. My phone is on silent; if it weren't for my elderly father, I wouldn't even carry it. I have a book with me (the one with "sexual content"); I'm not quite at the halfway point in it, so I anticipate getting past that point tonight (the rehearsal runs until 10 p.m.).

I am grateful beyond grateful to be an hour from home, no "tasks" (define that however you wish), no immediate demands on my time, and a long evening ahead.

The last several weeks in our household have been on overload for both of us. Family matters, rehearsals and concerts (Warren is playing in two separate ones this weekend—one up here in Mansfield, one down there in Westerville), classes, doctor appointments (all mine), Warren's booming percussion business, legal clinic matters, and on and on and on. Not all bad, mind you. But not all good either. Not very many of these intersect for us, so I am often heading one way, figuratively or literally, and Warren another, adding stress to stay connected beyond looking at the calendar.

Matters have to be attended to; tasks have to get done. They are what they are; it is what it is.

Through this all, I have to remember to give myself some grace. In whatever size, shape, or form that may be. As we traveled the hour north to the rehearsal, I marveled at the colors in the leaves. The skies and the trees and the temperatures make it clear that summer is over. Those were moments of mindfulness for me; those were moments of grace. 

The conductor has just taken the podium, so that is enough for now.

Saturday Morning Postscript

Last night I read, I listened, I watched the musicians (mostly Warren and the other percussionists; it was a percussion-intensive concert). I got up and walked around from time to time; the hall was cold and the lobby was slightly less chilled. During one of my walks to the lobby and back, I looked outside and saw the rain pounding down, enough that an announcement that some of the water had breached the cargo doors in the back and musicians would want to make sure their cases were not wet. 

Just little bits of a long evening.

Warren has already left this morning for the rehearsal in Westerville (that concert is late afternoon tomorrow) and will head straight to Mansfield from there. He will get home tonight, if lucky, by 11:00, putting in a 14+ hour day.

And yes, I have a lot of tasks today. 

Aging

My friend Tani and I, as part of our long running correspondence by snail mail, often write about the issues of aging: physical, mental, emotional, energy levels, overall health. 

Tani just turned 70; I just turned 70 1/2.

Yes, there are impacts of aging: joint issues, hearing loss, arthritis, other. I get that. But an aging impact hit me yesterday from a most unexpected source: my son Ben.

Ben and I sometimes exchange book titles and he recently raved about Too Like The Lightning by Ada Palmer. He noted that "the book is written in an 18th century novel style and set in the 25th century. Very enjoyable so far." So on the strength of that, I reserved it through our library system. When it arrived and I had it back home, I sent him the above shot to let him know I had it.

Ben replied: "very cool. hope you enjoy. there is some sexual content towards the end of the book, it is very much related to the narrative, just giving you a head's up." 

"[J]ust giving you a head's up"—WHAT??

I stared at that. Ben felt he needed to warn me about sexual content? Good lord. I read Valley of the Dolls in 6TH GRADE!

I texted back: "Trust me, I've read novels with sexual content before, dear one. Thank you for looking after your elderly mother on that regard." 

Last summer we went west and visited Ben and Sam and their/our families. While out with Sam and Georgia, I had what I will delicately refer to as an "accident," not quite able to make the bathroom in time. After I cleaned up, including borrowing running shorts from Sam to make it back to the hotel, I apologized profusely. Sam grinned and said, "Not a problem, Mom. Besides, now I know what my mom is like as an old lady."

Okay, that one I'll concede. But this?

So what's the truest test of aging? When your almost 41-year-old son makes sure his aging mother is forewarned about "sexual content" in the book he raved about.

I'm still laughing.

Watching the Groceries: Wrapping Up the Third Quarter of 2026!

 

With the start of the fourth and final quarter of 2026 just begun (how did that happen?), I have looked at our grocery spending to see where we stand for the year.

And the short version is? Better than I had hoped, given the prices of food and some of the splurges I made. I keep a running spreadsheet on my computer and will sometimes make editorial comments as I go, some of which make me laugh and some of which make me wince when hit the end of a quarter.

So numbers first. In the third quarter, we spent $628.19 on groceries, which for purposes of tracking means food items and common household items such as detergent and toilet paper. Of that, only $23.33 was spent on household items, just under 4% The monthly average for third quarter? $209.40. 

Okay.

Year to date, we have spent $1854.61, which comes to an average of $206.07. 

I can live with that!

Looking back at my second quarter post, I see that I called attention to the price of milk, which was on an upward trend. Three months later, the price of milk has come down substantially. (Good, because I love milk.) Probably the biggest "splurge" was when we were recently at Mayo Clinic I picked out some items at Trader Joe's (and note that the one in Rochester, MN is the only TJ we shop at, period) to help shove more complex carbohydrates into my diet as my doctor and I work with my diabetes. So yes to the wild rice and the penne pasta made from brown rice. 

We will have a large stock-up at Aldi in the coming days as we have been eating out of our pantry and garden much of the summer. I know what we don't need: we have A LOT of frozen chicken in our freezer from some walloping sales at Kroger. But I will grab my Aldi list and check on our supplies of staples so I can fill in the gaps.

There has been a lot (A. Lot.) going on in this household, much of it good, much of it complex (even the good stuff), and a chunk of it in the "just get through it" category. My health is stable, but there are some issues that my personal physician and I are watching. Will that impact our grocery spending? Maybe. Who knows?

It is what it is.

There is one very recent development that takes the first place blue ribbon (our county fair just ended) and has nothing to do with grocery spending, but is too good not to share. Last Friday, Warren's daughter Elizabeth gave birth to Gideon, the first child for Elizabeth and her husband Justin, and the first grandchild for both immediate sides. 

Yes, Warren is over the moon. (As we all are.) 

Let's see how we finish 2026 on the grocery front!