Goodbye, garden.

While I should have been inside working on product, I decided today was best spent outside. Seventy degree days just don't happen much at the end of October and I just needed to feel the breeze and smell that musty autumn smell.

All summer I keep a garden. It's all I can think about from February until May. I spend a good amount of time thumbing through seed catalogs, searching through gardening sites and mapping out what my garden will look like. This year was no different. Though, I should be terribly truthful, when the humidity of July sets in, I turn to my other obsessions and the garden does its thing and just grows and grows. However, I love to watch it. I love that I turn the ground and feel so connected when I feel the heat of the soil on the bottoms of my feet. It turns out that my garden ends up being one of my best friends. I can go out and unload frustration. I nurture it and spend so much time thinking about it that it becomes this living breathing thing I can relate to.

So, today, I picked the last of the produce. An enormous amount of bell peppers and brussels sprouts that are awaiting a date with the freezer and the frying pan. But there was a surprise amongst the weeds, one last watermelon. It wasn't a great growing season for late watermelons this year. It was wet and the heat never stayed around for long. It produced a watermelon that was waterlogged, but I didn't care. I sat on the embankment at the end of my garden with a knife and a watermelon, looking over a summer's worth of labor and the sun hitting the now orange maple trees at the front of the house and thought about this great summer.

And it has been a great summer. I learned that I can fix things on my own, that I really truly am good at my job. I learned to love better and to take care of myself. I saw trains and the ocean. I made new friends. So, I cut that last water logged melon open and said goodbye to one of my best friends for a season. I felt the now cold soil beneath me and knew it was time to go. Next week, the whole thing will be tilled under and my garden will go to sleep. Its such a feeling of finality that is both enjoyable and terribly sad. That watermelon was terrible, but I ate half of it in celebration of a job well done.

It is all a lesson in change and acceptance. By the time I was done feasting, the next round of cold rainy days could be seen headed for my little house. As the clouds covered up the sun, I knew it was time to go in and start winterizing. A little piece inside of me will just be waiting for spring. When I get cold this winter, I'll just close my eyes and think about my feet in the dirt.

Be patient and wait.