Like spring, fall is a time of year when I want to be in the garden. My favorite plants, the tomatoes, are dying, fighting to ripen a few more fruits before being overtaken by late blight; I really should be out their daily, at least to pull the rotting or blight-damaged fruit to give the good ones more of a chance. It's about the end for the basil too, and the cucumbers. There's not really anything I can do to keep them going, but I want to at least be out there, enjoying the last bit of production from those high-summer crops. Too bad I have to be at work.
It's not that I don't like working. I'm subbing again this year, which is great fun and lets me hang out with kids of all the elementary ages—I've already spent days with kindergarteners and fifth-graders and enjoyed both tremendously. Plus I've taken on a second job, managing the Elementary Kids Church program at our church, which gives me a chance to be in charge of long-term plans and think about big pedagogical questions (think about them in setting where my thoughts can actually affect how things are done, that is—that's the part that's new). Neither job pays a whole lot, but in a better world I'd be happy to do both of them for free, so the fact that I can get paid at all is pretty cool. But it does mean a fair amount of time away from home.
Still, I have more time to garden than most people—not to mention the painting, baking, reading, and hanging out with my family that I manage to squeeze in. So no complaints. And this afternoon as I inspected the blight-blasted tomatoes I picked a good two quarts of perfectly fine cherry tomatoes, so even there all is not lost. And then there's the squash coming in, and a second round of hot peppers, and maybe a first round of sweet peppers if it stays warm a little longer. I can find time to pick those, I'm sure.