September... The garden is looking more and more scraggly. One by one the plants begin to give up, but even as their leaves wither, they hold on to let their last fruits ripen. Nights and mornings are chilly. The sun doesn't shine as brightly, but I'm still able to fill my little basket every other day.
Then there's this... This is what I deal with every single time. He hops up on the counter purring loudly. He wants to lay across the vegetables... every... single... time... No, Buff! I put him down. He hops back up. I finally put him in the other room.