The worst part about having a garden isn't planting.  It isn't tending to them and watering them.  It isn't even chasing the dog away so he doesn't steal the tomatoes.  It's the end of season -- and even then it isn't the activity of clearing things out, for me it's the emotions of it.

Every year I find myself thinking "if this plant only had another month!"  I feel guilty plucking every last tomato off of the plants, especially those that are continuing to offer me blossoms despite downright cold overnights.  Good job ladies.  You served us well and I am grateful for your bounty.

Two lipped plates of tomatoes, one cherry sized and the other larger tomatoes, have been brought inside.  Unfortunately, I cannot leave them on the counter - ahem, CHURCH - so I have to put them into the cabinet and monitor them for ripening.

When I take another 10 minute pass I'll pull the remaining peppers from those plants.