Caesurae

I've been fixated on pause and breath and rest and space, not just in terms of poetry but real life. It's getting to be that time--almost autumn, when it seems everything is space and rest. The gardens are giving up their last, though some determined plants are hanging on--there are a few zinnias in the beds that are as strong now as they were in early August. I need to work out a plan for dead-heading and collecting seeds from certain annuals for next year.

~*~

Harvested the last few salvageable tomatoes from my home beds last night. By this point I'm sick of canning and cold-packing. So I decided I'd make some tomato soup. I opted to make it with vegetable broth instead of purely cream (this also helped me get rid of some produce from the fridge that I needed to deal with (parsley, shrooms, bits of onion, celery and carrots.)) It turned out better than I'd hoped. Today is grey and drizzly--so it made a perfect lunch.