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Aug 21
2009
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The end of summer is always difficult for me. My vegetable garden shrinks, in size and in its contribution to my physical and emotional well-being. At some point, I'll have to break down and buy a store-bought tomato with the texture of cardboard and scramble to find fresh rosemary. We won't roast vegetables or salmon on the grill. And the spirituality of gardening will need to enter its dormant stage until May.
Summer's end also initiates Winter Dread, an affliction common to transplanted Southerners.
