Well, sort of. The summer garden is kaput although the summer humidity remains and has mildewed most of our spirits and definitely all of our summer gardens.
I hoped that the biblical rains we received this week, thanks to tropical storm Hermine, might provide one last jolt of energy into an otherwise exhausted garden. But alas she rotted it, effectively ending the garden for the season. This can only mean one thing:
Summer ends with the garden door ceremoniously swinging wide open so 8 obnoxious hens can saunter in and tear the place to shreds. Their entrance ushers in a new season, every season, and they get the job of weed-eating, turning the top soil, and fertilizing done in about a week.
It doesn't rival a shmancy landscaping/gardening service, but it does the trick, and they earn their keep in the process. Good chicken.