Chris:

The last few poblanos and red peppers still grow slowly as the days grow shorter. Oh, the thermometer still occasionally touches 90, but the nights go down to the 50s. The sun’s heart doesn’t seem to be into roasting the soil and the plants any more. The tomatoes told me almost a month ago that they wouldn’t be turning any more yellow flowers into green fruit, so I began pulling them out, reluctantly, one by one. The last one, my magnificent, spreading red grape tomato, came out struggling last week–its long green tendrils clung to the ground and around each steel fiber of the cage, which had tried unsuccessfully to contain the plant’s eager arms and legs. Over the eggplants, the marigold pot, several strawberry plants, and even the dormant irises, this prodigy had grown since mid-April, as it produced many hundreds of luscious ruby gems. As I hacked away, a big handful of red and some green tomatoes appeared fruit by tiny fruit, having been hidden among the still-green leaves.

The magnificent red grape tomato, still in yellow bloom and hiding red gems

Also reluctantly, I pulled out the two eggplants–the black beauty and the little fingers. They had been steady producers through the summer, the source of Jean’s succulent ratatouilles and eggplant parmesans. Both plants were still in full green leaf, and one or two lavender flowers still clung to the little fingers variety. But, peering under the canopies of leaves, I saw no more robust black beauties, so out that stalwart came.

But when I ventured a timid hand beneath the prickly stems of the little fingers, I was surprised to find one, no, two, no, three–no, four– ripe slender eggplants. And I thought it had stopped producing in early July! But out that genius also came–after all, it was September–and I figured that even if I had missed a few, no more new ones would be coming. Well, maybe so, but as I brought the uprooted plant up to eye level, I felt and saw among the green leaves no less than four more small perfect fruit. These eight had done their silent, patient, hidden growing over July and August.

Can you see the eight purple eggplants growing beneath the leaves of the plant in front? Not me.

To my ravaging hands, out also came the spent cucumbers, one of the pepper plants, and some of the summer annual flowers (impatiens, chamomile, some of the marigolds). But some will hang on a while more before I pluck them for the compost bin. Living in a land where it rarely gets cold enough for a string of hard freezes, annual plants hang on for a long time (sometimes for two years or more), so gardeners always hold out hope that their favorites will live on and on.

Once I’ve picked the last peppers and taken out the last of the marigolds (and maybe even the vinca and the petunias), it will be the official end of summer in the garden.

But it just means that fall-winter planting is coming. What will it be this year? Definitely the hearty, spicy arugula and the sweet, buttery bibb lettuce. Jean wants the bold, richly-colored chard again, and she’ll have it. Onions? Of course. Beets? I love the look of the leaves and the mystery of what lurks beneath the soil. Ah, yes: broccoli–the promise of those plump, delicious heads and crunchy stems.

All of this bounty depends on the rains. What will happen this year? Always the mystery. Always the hope.

But for now, we are between seasons. The soil rests, getting ready.