The poor little things. They tried so hard. Through the forty (or fifty, or sixty) days of rain, the suffocating humidity, the parching heat, the bugs, and the birds they kept on struggling. And they did admirably. We got two red peppers, two (tiny) sprouts of broccoli (the stalks were at least two feet tall, so I don’t know how they managed to produce heads that were less than two inches in diameter), a few leaves of lettuce, plenty of cilantro and basil, and quite a few delicious tomatoes (just ask the birds who ate them).
It was unfortunate that our garden was just coming to fruition as we were at the height of our marathon training, fundraising, and preparations for Alaska. We may have neglected them. And so it was with sadness that I plucked out the remains of the broccoli and peppers (the lettuce, cilantro, basil, and peas were gone long ago) and watered the pathetic remains of the tomato tree. We have saved a few of the tomatoes from being eaten by the birds and bugs, and there are still a few more ripening on the vine. We should have an empty box in a week or two. And then maybe we’ll start again.