And the milweek. Last year, the patch was chockful of pods looking like horned and warty demon claws, and this summer, I couldn't wait to sink my teeth into them. I noticed a few teardrop sized pods a little over a week ago, so I went out to harvest tonight. I came home with seven, yes seven, little pods. The patch is stricken, suffering from too much heat, followed by rain, followed by a freaky chill and then heat again; the flowers are shriveled without forming pods, the leaves already curled and yellowed. There are still some pods that are too immature to gather, but a bumper crop it will not be.
That's a pity because the pods: Delicious!
The only thing that seemed to have thrived this year is the wild asparagus. With the unseasonable chill, we got a late crop of shoots, but not knowing to expect it, I missed almost all of them. I did find one to add to my stew tonight, and that was a tasty treat.
I don't know how to feel about moving away on such a note. I would have liked for the land to give me a grand send-off, but at the same time, it makes it a little easier to leave my haunts, knowing that not every year is a bountiful one.