After seven hours of work and some help from Dad, the garden is no more. We threw away one broken screw – everything else has been salvaged for another chance.

– My fridge is full of vegetables and herbs.
– Basil is still in the ground, awaiting Tuesday’s pesto-making extravaganza.
– Lumber and screws from the frame are awaiting their new life – serving as shelving in Dad’s “new” storage shed.
– Oregano and Parsley have been potted, and are now awaiting transport (with the containers of cucumber and eggplant, the pot reserved for cherry tomatoes, and the spider plant and philodendron.
– The hibiscus plant and second pot of oregano will go to neighbor J tomorrow.
– Marigolds have been transplanted throughout the space, adding gorgeous pops of color to be enjoyed by the next tenants – along with the lilac bush that should flower come spring.
– The gloriously rich, earthy, organic soil has been scattered – ammended to neighboring beds (the English wildflower seeds I scattered in April are appreciative), topping off pots, and covering the no-longer-surreptitious compost pile.
– Unused pots are now safely “at home” in Mom’s potting shed, along with a bag each of potting soil and bone meal, and my trellis pieces.

It’s still so bright and cheery and fall-like that it’s hard to be sad. Especially considering that I’m off to enjoy a chicken-vegetable pie for dinner that’s “all garden.”

Photos tomorrow…

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