Many, many times, I tried to convince the Bonfire Leader to move out west with me. Leaving her behind was so hard, and she and I have had lots of opportunities to talk on the phone and text frequently since we left. It's not enough, and I declared often that my first goal with my new career is to earn enough disposable cash to fly her out for an extended visit. She refused politely but firmly to move out here after us, insisting that she was done living anywhere it snows ever again. She said to me that she needed to live someplace warm, where she could have a spectacular garden (which she currently has). That's how she ended up in the Low Country, with the big, beautiful property I named Bonfire Gardens. In the last month, she came to the decision to sell her beloved BG, for more acreage in a rural setting. I thought I had my window of opportunity, to try one more time to pull her out here, but once again she is standing by her word. No cold weather. I understand her motivation, but that doesn't mean I have to like the strength of her convictions.
Today is October 2nd. There has not been a single frost yet this season, which admittedly surprised me. Enough time has passed with warm days that I'm seeing more ripe tomatoes than Elsa can eat. I don't know that I'm going to have enough of them to bother re-learning how to can them, but I've got plenty to put in omelets, on grain-free pizzas, and to saute in bacon fat like I did for part of my lunch today. The only food I knew I would have coming in to this house was that healthy kale crop that was already knee high when we closed in July. As much as I have clipped it, as much as the dogs have nibbled on it, through wet weather and dry, it has come back with a vengeance. It's twice as tall now as it was that first week, and it has spread all over the raised bed and in the rows between. And we never thought the raspberries that were waist high when we toured the house would bear this year. We always heard that raspberries bore on second-year canes, so we assumed that these were going to be barren this year. There's a half-gallon of raspberries of different colors in my freezer that prove we were wrong. I don't know what my dear friend the Bonfire Leader imagined was possible to grow out here, or wasn't as the case may be, but I think the incredible bounty we've gotten that sprung up as volunteers should prove to her that growing food and flowers here is easier than she gave credit for.
We discussed moving the garden to the other side of the yard next year. If we put up a stockade fence, it would cast a lot of shade on the south side of the lawn, so placing it on the north side seems to make more sense. I wonder whether I would be able to bring back enough of these tomatoes that are mostly volunteers, and how tough is it to move a kale garden? I definitely would want to keep these varieties, since in my mind they are heirlooms. I didn't have to work too hard to start them, and only put in a little work to keep them, but I still feel responsible for their success. Next year I will get some input on what to add to the garden. I wonder what I'm going to feel like eating next summer.
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