I've picked the last beans, cucumbers and zucchini and the foliage will be dug in or added to the compost. The strawberry bed is long overdue for a clean up. The parsnips, turnips, beets and carrots are ready for a blanket of straw. Heads are forming on the last of the red cabbages so I'll leave them alone until I'm ready for some sauteed in red wine. The Brussels sprouts are still a mystery-will they go dormant or might they come through for Christmas?
A late cosmos hangs on with its delicate beauty.
Thanks to the AMP the greenhouse is cleaned up. It will need a new cover for next year. Basil is the only thing still in residence but must be picked soon for one last meal of fresh pesto and pasta.
We had our first storm of the season and the first power outage. The storm threw up massive amounts of seaweed on the beach. Kelp makes up a large portion, nature's way of pruning the kelp beds although I wouldn't want to see much more. Kelp is wonderful for the soil so we will be down there today filling our buckets.
I've joined a choir-pause for family to recover from choking on their coffee. It is a rough voices choir which fits my skills, or lack of, nicely. To find ones voice, in whatever form, is a powerful thing.
The AMP is working on our high tech drainage system aka the ditch. Fortunately he enjoys digging. Even more fortunately our neighbour wants our run off for his pond so we are connecting up to his pipes.
On Mondays I help at the nursing home garden club. The residents have been deadheading and throwing the flowers in labelled boxes. Our leader took everything home and dried and sorted. Now residents and helpers are making up packets of seeds to sell at the bazaar. Our work bees are wonderfully cosy and social.
This week I asked about reports of food shortages. Yes, they have been running out of food and some residents, perfectly capable of tucking in to meat and two veg, end up with a bottle Ensure, or the like, for dinner. One of my sweet ladies told me she had 3/4 of a very thin, white bread, peanut butter and jam sandwich with a side of peas. How disrespectful! It is all a result of privatisation. Frozen meals now come from Saskatchewan which is like going from Wyoming to Oregon. The kitchen is used solely to reheat and there is no staff to whip up extra in case of shortage. Men in suits have made a brief visit to investigate and disappeared back to the halls of bureaucracy. Time to dust off my picketing skills.
Rather sad to think of the above at Thanksgiving. Something more cheerful...the blueberry bushes are a lovely colour in the Fall.