Ahead of Irene, I cut down all the tomatoes and took out the cucumbers. With words like "dire! unprecedented! lethal!" being bandied about by meteorologists, and the prospect of 80mph winds, I didn't want to leave the pots on the roof in their top-heavy state. So, once that eggplant up there is ready, and the remaining peppers picked, that's it. Over. Fat lady has sung.
How can that be? Last September the little roof farm was winning blue ribbons. (That harvest festival will not be repeated. It seem it was a one off stunt, and not worth the bother again for the organizers. A pity - it was a great way to get to know other growers in the area. The food was good. It was f u n.)
Now look at it. Scrappy and ratty. I must plant something. Leaves, of course. But what else? From seed? The microgreens, yes. But what about pretty kale? Spinach?
Last nights' ragged sunset. We still have time.