That's it. It's over. Time called on the last planting of the year. There are a few crops that can still be planted but nothing that you'll see this year.
It is that time of year. With one hand you are picking the fruits of your labour and with the other hand you are sweeping away the debris of a spent crop. Keates’ season of mist and mellow fruitfulness is upon us, to be quickly followed by the season of frosts and spiteful chilliness.
I left my gas burner at home today. I like to improvise.
Last weekend I spent all my time covering our bottom plot with wood chip around the fruit bushes and plastic sheeting over the main growing area.
I also shifted a lot of horse muck. I love the smell of horse manure in the morning! Actually I really don't. More later.