The garden is officially winding down. The boss man harvested all the green tomatoes off our wilting plants and pulled the last of the corn — oh Butter Boy you served us well, time to put you away until next corn season. Thanks for taking all those sticks of butter up the butt for us.

We wound up with a little over 200 ears of corn, far short of the bossman’s dream of the ever-elusive 300-ear season. I’ve had quite enough, I’m feeling like a corn-fed heifer But it has been nice not having to feed Rick since he just eats 10 ears of corn for dinner every night.

The threat of frost motivated the bossman to harvest all the squash and peppers as well. I spent hours roasting and peeling peppers to freeze (an awesome way to preserve overflow peppers by the way) and my hands burnt like they were on fire. I had to remember not to rub my eyes or pick my nose, and the sauna, oh wow, that didn’t work at all.

Garlic has been distributed. Hops have been chopped. Dry wall buckets are filled with green tomatoes. Buckets of basil pesto in the fridge. There are more empty beds in our garden than green beds. The farmers market is winding down and it is almost time to settle in for our long winter’s nap, which we really need after this kick-ass gardening season.

We’ve been blessed with abundance, but I’m ready to do other things. Gardening on our scale takes months of commitment, good thing we live in the boonies with few other distractions. I’ve spent the last month marching in the tomato parade, while turning down invitations for much more fun parades. Friends will wait for next month, ripe tomatoes will not. I keep reminding myself how good that sauce will taste with roasted peppers in the middle of January, especially when I feel I’m missing out on fun.

The garden is winding down. Gardening chores are far from over, however. We’ve got lettuce, spinach and beets just starting to grow. The bossman informed me we’ve got 88 broccoli plants in waiting. Pears need to be dried. Things still need to be weeded. Dead plants need to be yanked. Manure needs to be hauled, garlic planted, leaf mulch gathered . . . . I’m longing for lazy winter days in Whitefish, Montana.