A Different Spice

There’s not much left to our garden. Long vines and huge leaves from winter squash plants have all withered and died, leaving behind a strange, other-worldly array of expired tentacles grasping at the dirt. Beans just disappeared. Cucumber plants shriveled to nothing. Zucchini plants that were once four feet in diameter are now reduced to tiny mounds of memory. The color is gone. A huge square of gray dirt dominates our lawn, looking more like a disappointment rather than the glorious success it was a couple of months ago.

Kat has taken most the spice clippings inside. We’ll have more than enough oregano, thyme, and basil to get us through the winter. All that remains are a few tomatoes that refuse to give up, and one very stubborn habanero plant. Habanero isn’t really a spice, though that’s the side of the garden on which it was planted; it’s one of the hottest peppers in the world, several times more than jalapeno. Kat wanted to try it. To my knowledge, she attempted to eat one.

Spice did well in the garden this year, for the most part. I’m not sure what happened to the lavender, but everything else on that side of the garden grew exceptionally well. Bell peppers and sweet peppers came in a little late for some reason, but once they started they were abundant. That one habanero plant, though, started early and there are still three small ones on the vine. We won’t pick them; there’s no reason to bother. They’re just too hot.