It’s the second day of fall and I have a lot to do but instead I have decided to harvest the arugula which I let grow weedy between the bricks in the backyard. I sit in the bright noon sun, plucking leaf after leaf into a large bowl. The arugula is leggy and the honeybees still cling to the yellow flowers even after the stalks are cut and in my hand. The leaves are going to become arugula pesto, made with walnuts and my pungent parmesan smuggled from Europe.
Our black cherry tomato plant has gone wild, sending branches like tentacles all over the garden. I keep finding bunches of green tomatoes under tables and in other plants. It’s too late, they will never ripen quite like their summer brothers, so I’m pickling them green. Sometime this winter I’ll have a dirty martini or a bloody mary with a pickled tomato garnish and remember the summer.