The first frost came quietly.
No warning shot, no dramatic announcement… just a silvery morning that left the garden looking like it had been gently dusted with glitter and then ever-so-slightly punched in the gut.
Some of the plants took it well. Others… not so much.
The melons are officially a lost cause. They were never going to make it, but I was holding out hope for a miracle. Hope doesn’t stack up well against 31°F. The cucumbers, peppers, and tomatoes themselves are still good for the picking, but the plants are collapsed in defeat. They’ve gone from vibrant to tragic overnight, the horticultural equivalent of fainting onto a chaise lounge.
The kale, chard, and beets barely noticed. They’re standing tall, with a little “What frost?” swagger in their boots. The flowers are looking like a gruesome Halloween-at-midnight affair.
So, here we are. Time to start putting the garden to bed. I’ll try a few winter-hardy vegetables… kale, spinach, maybe some peas, but I’m not holding out too much hope. Mostly, it’s about cleaning up, saving seeds, and saying thank you.
This garden has given us so much this year. It’s fed us, surprised us, and kept us entertained.
It’s time to let it rest.
