The Last of the Tomatoes

I couldn’t believe it when I looked out this morning. There had been no rain and for the fourth day in a row there was no dew. It was a glorious morning- more like spring than late autumn. Even a thrush thought it worth singing about. The nor’wester was still gusty, but the crescent moon soared in the blue sky, and the great black-backed gulls flew low, sidling across the wind.

I dragged my aching body out to the garden and tackled a big job that has been neglected for three years and has been preying on my mind. Done by lunchtime. This afternoon I picked the rest of the tomatoes and removed the vines from the greenhouse. My apologies for the poor gap-filler shot, but I’m wrecked.