Tomato’s Last Stand

On this sunny, breezy October afternoon I pulled the tomato plants.  Their yield has been markedly down, with nights dipping into the 40's and days that don’t often break the mid 60’s.  This past week’s harvest basket is more or less empty of tomatoes.  With several weekends of travel on the horizon, I completed the first right of passage, the first step in admitting summer’s end.  The chore was bittersweet; it was a spectacular afternoon.  The kind of afternoon where I could lose myself in the garden.  It felt good to clean up the place, to pull, rake, compost, then tuck in the bed for winter under a blanket of yellow straw.  I love the heat of summer, and sometimes question why I have chosen to live in such a northern state as Maine.  But then I think of cozy Sunday afternoons on the couch, tired from a morning of winter outdoor activity, now wrapped in wool with warm hands surrounding a mug of tea.  I love to be cozy, and winter is the perfect season for practicing this pastime.  (Not to mention the beauty of the four seasons) Nevertheless, I had to capture the last of the tomatoes, the gleanings of a seemingly empty bed that will ripen on the window sill until they become one last BLT, or one last batch of tomato sauce.