Fragments From Floyd

The deer have discovered, as they seem to do at the end of the gardening season, that our small electrical fence is easy to jump over. Daily, my patches of greens and hopeful beds of Buttercrunch lettuce and Chinese Cabbage are punctuated with deep cloven craters. It will be survival of the lucky, if any survive both treading and munching. Ah well. So it goes. Another sunflower here.

The sunflowers, though, are now above deer browse level and are in their final days of glory. I'll harvest the heads of the smaller sunflowers before they drop seed and take over the place next year with their offspring. I'll hang the seedheavy heads over in the tree branches beside the creek for the migrating birds. Won't be long.

I planted buckwheat as a cover crop in unused rectangles like the one where the corn failed to grow. I'd never used that seed before, but I like it. It's white flowers attract pollinators. THe seeds are large and three-sided like tiny beech nuts and I suppose it would reseed itself several times if left along. The stems are soft and succulent and will turn easily back into the soil as a green manure. So I've learned at least one new trick this lackluster gardening year.

We have a heaping five gallon bucket of Brandywine tomatoes to can today after the girls catch the plane back to South Dakota. And grass to mow, sheets to wash, and life goes on. And I must make an effort at the transition from summer's free agent to autumn's indentured educator, from gardener to wood lot manager, from answering the question WHY a hundred times a day this last week with Abby here to asking the question myself to no one in particular and become adjusted once more to the sound of silence again.