The last of the summer gardens has now been put to bed. Some of the cherry tomatoes held on valiantly until the bitter end, but eventually Jack Frost reduced them to a tangled clump of dead and dying vines. So now we enter that portion of the year which, for all its joys and pleasures, is sadly tomatoless.
The best of our cherry tomatoes this year were all volunteers that I plucked up out of the asparagus garden (having presumably emerged from seeds in the compost) and transplanted into our late tomato garden. They fed us, and many other people, very well.
After unwinding the twine we’d used in our Florida weave, and after jacking up all the t-posts, I bushhogged the vines, then tilled them in.
Along with the tomato remains, I tilled in a snake’s skin, shed voluntarily,…
…and a terrapin’s shell, from which he appears to have been removed against his will.
I broadcast winter rye over the newly-tilled garden, but I don’t know if it will germinate now. If not, maybe I’ll have a chance to put in a quick spring cover crop next year.
Either way, in a little over five months I’ll be planting squash and cucumbers there and looking forward to the return of summer vegetable goodness.