After an uneventful drive home from Massachusetts, I was greeted by an exploding garden. How is it that I can vanish for just two days and come home to so much overflowing produce? This is a tiny plot, remember: but yesterday afternoon I picked a dishpan of green beans, a dishpan of green peppers (and I only picked the ones that were weighing the plants to the breaking point), two pints of cherry tomatoes, a dishpan of Roma tomatoes, and a pint of okra. Thank goodness my neighbor had invited us to dinner, as I was able to quickly make use of the eggplant and a bunch of the tomatoes. The peppers and green beans went straight into the freezer, but I still have scads of produce on my hands, with more to come.
This evening I'm supposed to have a poetry-group meeting, but I might beg off as I really need to deal with this food. And I've got a new editing project to look at, and so much outdoor stuff to manage. That garden tour is on Thursday, and yard things are looking a bit ratty. But . . . I don't know . . . maybe the poetry group would be good for me . . . I can't quite tell what's best at the moment.
Well, at least the weekend was relaxing. We really did have a lovely time with Tom's parents: easy hours, plenty of sleep, slow visiting, comfortable good humor. And I'm sure as soon as I start tackling all of my obligations, I'll fall straight back into my work rhythm. I love high-summer harvesting and sociable evenings. I bet I'll figure it all out.