October 20, 2013

• The garlic had waited too long, snuggled beneath the straw. With pitchfork poised, the mulch removed, the bulbs revealed. Shaking soil from the chain-lightening white roots, the rattling of leaves above fore spoke the dead of winter. Steely gray clouds boasted of coming snow as our attention focused on the task at hand. Mustard greens added to the harvest, we gathered bouquets of borage, determined to have summer linger a while longer.

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