By Kathleen Thomas Gaspar
According to the calendar, the Farmer’s Almanac and Wikipedia, we’ve hit fall. That would be the season. According to the thermometer on my patio, we’ve hit Mercury. That would be the planet.
So wiping perspiration from my forehead today, I stood on the patio, in the shaded 91 degrees Fahrenheit, and surveyed my north 40 – that would be square feet devoted to growing good things to eat. Yellow and deep red and bright green and deep purple/brown dot (oh, and that would be literal, the use of the word “dot”) the flowerpotted landscape.
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