the farmer's market is still full of tomatoes and obnoxiously-large zucchini. but the green beans are long gone, and the cucumbers harder to find.
and soon all the cantaloupe, with a perfume slightly rotten, which permeates the outdoor market, will be replaced by pumpkins.
right before the sun goes down, the cicada songs burst overhead. the insect hum so loud, you have to raise your voice to be heard, when talking with a neighbor on the sidewalk.
read this in Updike's "Marry Me" last night,
"She was still in the kitchen when he came in the back door; the cry of cicadas, the dry football smell of summer's end, followed him in."
as we have reached the hottest part of summer, it also begins to fade. all those vibrant colors from June have dimmed a shade.
my neighbor has sunflowers next door. in the backyard, they tower 10ft high in a cluster.
all now with heavy heads, they droop.
from over my fence, it looks like a band of tired giants. waiting out the sun.
one grows in the front, next to my driveway.
since this was the first time for a garden in this yard. I knew there was a chance that something would go awry.
and though I had added in some new soil/compost, there must still be something wrong here.
my once beautiful tomato plants are withering. (still producing fruit, though)
I'll have to investigate and come up with a prevention plan for next year.
for now, I still happily have far too many cherry toms to eat.