Note To Future Self

In the immortal words of Jim Anchower: Hola, amigos. I know it’s been a long time since I rapped at ya, but we’ve been on the busy side for a couple of weeks. Lots more of the usual travelogue and photo junk on the horizon, I’m afraid. I actually put Anna on a plane back to the States a week ago, and look what I’ve done with my time: zilch.

Well, not exactly nothing. We’re well into fall down on this end of the earth, and I’ve been scrambling to finish up our summer vegetable business before the frosts swoop in and turn it all to mush. In a word, tomatoes.

We made the rookie mistake (again) of planting far too many plants, far too densely.

Before Anna’s trip we survived round one, converting tomatoes to chili sauce (relish).

But in Anna’s absence, I’ve been left home alone with the garden. Gulp. Every day after work, I walk through the garden and pick … and pick … and pick.

And when I can’t see the kitchen table, I think of something to do with the darned things. This time around: pasta sauce.

Roasted garden vegetable pasta sauce.

Hot diggity. About two gallons so far.

In closing, here are a couple of scenes from our late-fall garden.