It’s harvest season in the santa cruz mountains, even for the kind of gardeners who aren’t growing things like squash and heirloom tomatoes. I can tell because the dark helicopters with the funny antenna on the front have started flying low over my vegetable garden again. I’ve been meaning to make a big sign I can hold up next time they come by that says IT REALLY IS TOMATOES.
I harvested the remainder of the basil out of the garden today for pesto: one batch for dinner and another batch for the freezer. It really is the end of the summer when the basil is done. I dug out the bed, put compost and blood meal into it, and planted 48 cloves of italian hardneck garlic for next year’s pesto. So it goes.