Summer this year stretched on seemingly forever- the rain only coming to this temperate corner of the world a day after we passed the mark for the longest dry spell on record. For weeks we watched through smoky skies as first perennials and then even the trees began to suffer and brown from thirst. Fall though, now presses fully upon us, and the entire world seems to be relieved, save for my tomatoes, which cling to the hope of ripening in the sun’s waning moments.
This year, more than most, I have found solace in their persistence.
Gardening is our most tangible reminder that we will always reap what we sow, good and bad. More than that, it is proof that nothing, not even the most diligent care, can protect us from the unexpected, from the actions of outside forces and things beyond our control. We are not so far ourselves from the sunflower bowing in late rains, the blighted tomato, or the early pumpkin, slowly being eaten on the vine.
But in the end, the garden still yields its fruits, the birds still feast and sing, and I marvel at my sunflowers, still standing and my tomatoes, intent on ripening.


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