July is that magical time when the sun shines a little hotter, the air smells vaguely like sunblock, and gardeners everywhere are living their most generous lives. These days, our kitchen is overflowing with fresh produce, while we’ve been actively trying to offload our bounty onto anyone with opposable thumbs and a heartbeat. Now, at the end of July, few takers to be found.
In June, zucchini was cute. HHH and I whispered sweet nothings to our first little green squash as we lovingly sliced it into a sauté pan. We boasted about the flavor while posting pics on Facebook. It was all about that first zucchini.
But now it’s reproducing faster than a pair of rabbits in a vegetable patch, and the one “forgotten zucchini behind a leaf” accidentally grew into a club big enough to fend off a wild mustang.
There comes a point in every gardener’s life when walking into church with a brown paper bag full of tomatoes is met with sidelong glances and polite excuses.
“Oh, I would, but… I just picked up some at the farmers market.”
“No thanks, Janice gave me six yesterday. I’ve been making sauce for the last week.”
“I’m allergic to… freshness. Yeah. Sorry.”
And, it’s not just tomatoes. The last few plums are falling from trees like fruity meteors, staining paths and attracting ants. Last week, we stealthily secreted them in church like a fruity Santa Claus.
“Oh, weird, who left 44 plums on the table?”
Hmmmmm. Must be the Produce Fairy.
Zucchini bread. Zucchini muffins. Zucchini lasagna. Zucchini noodles. After awhile, everything begins to look and taste like zucchini. Enough already.
We could start leaving them in unlocked cars in parking lots or “google”crafts made from zucchini. We briefly consider drying and stringing them into a Christmas garland. No inventive ideas will be rejected if it means we can offload the zucchini.
Meanwhile, at the garden center to the east, roses are on sale for 60% off. Nothing says “fall is coming” quite like a rack of half-wilted tea roses in pots that say “hope” but smell like “we tried.” Just as we are trying to push produce, the nursery is dumping the last of its plants before fall arrives. We’re planning to hit the August sale starting Friday, with our front yard to finish.
Here at Winterpast, the sad, crunchy remnants of early spring flowers sit in flower pots awaiting removal. Once full of marigold ambition they’re now reduced to brittle botanical fossils. It’s time to dump them out, hose them off, and stack them in the greenhouse with lots of hope for a better crop next year.
These days, my imagination plays tricks on me as I wish for a hint of cool in the morning air. Sunday’s thunderstorms brought much-needed rain, making everything feel like we managed to skip August altogether. Fall will be here in just a few more weeks and then the zucchini will freeze, the tomatoes will give up, and the garden will finally sleep.
Until then, we’ll keep the faith and our stack of paper bags ready. We’ll just leave them at home next Sunday.
