Winding Down the Garden Some More

Clippings from the garden

Several days ago, I wrote that I was starting to wind down the 2026 garden. There were some more light frosts after that initial one. I did not cover the tomatoes, which mostly came through. The basil, however, pretty much bit the dust. (Hmm, can plants rooted in the dirt bite the dust? Well, sure, if you think of the idiom itself; the basil is done for the year. But given that vegetables and herbs bite the dust so they can grow all growing season long, it makes me think I need a better way to express the end of the season!) And the flowers and miscellaneous "stuff" (no other word fits it) growing at the rear of the garden are also looking done done done for the season.

In response, I have been wading into the garden the last two afternoons to start cutting down and pulling up the weeds, the flower stalks, the everything. Well, not the milkweed; it is tough. I can cut it down substantially, but it will take a shovel to uproot it. Once everything else is out of the way, the remaining milkweed stubs will be obvious. 

Making progress 

I will wade back in this afternoon and, I hope, bring the bulk of the remaining things down down down. We have had a string of bright autumn days with sunshine and warm temperatures, so while I definitely am not making hay while the sun shines, I am clearing the garden while the weather holds. I am salvaging the few small zinnias that are still blooming and a small vase of them is brightening our table. There was even a cosmos or two for the gathering. 

I am not trying to overthink the question of next year's gardens. Friends who garden, one aggressively, one more like my style (casual at best), have been sharing some of their thoughts in recent letters. We all are kicking around ideas. My aunt Gail, who gardens all year long given her location (southern southern California) has recently started yet another round of sweet peas and turnips (and probably other things as well; those are just the two that stick in my mind). But even she is noticing effects of climate change on her gardening, which at this location has been for some 50+ years. Not just in the storms sweeping the California coast (she lives eight miles inland) but in her plants blooming or withering out of season. So while she continues to garden fiercely, she admits that she is not sure how things will turn out. 

As I cut and cleaned yesterday, I came across our Mayo star. You can see it is the above photo as I worked towards it. It was made to be staked in a flower bed or garden. Warren and I bought this early on when we started at Mayo. There was a downtown street fair/arts festival right by the Clinic (and the Clinic dominates downtown Rochester) on one of our very early visits and we bought it with love and hope for the future. 11 years later, we still have love and hope.

And the star.