First frost

The rumors began late Saturday. Weather forecasters were predicting frost in the Capitol Region of New York state, particularly in the northern regions at the higher elevations. Those who live in my part of the region often are referred to as flat landers. But our elevation is a bit higher than downtown Albany and Saratoga Springs, and starting in late August, the air around us often carries a sharp, brisk chill that makes huddling in a blanket by a smoldering outdoor fire feel particularly nice.

I was in denial about the rumors. Next week -- the recovery week following the September 22 Adirondack Marathon -- was slated as fall cleaning week. I figured that that would be the week that we would scrub the house clean, organize the crazy piles of papers, and retake control of our kitchen and mudroom for the winter. Next week would be the week to bring in the final bins of tomatoes, peppers, eggplants, and fresh green and purple beans. Next week would be the week to harvest squash. Next week would be the week to dig up potatoes and start figuring out the root cellar.

A crisp gust of wind that left me shivering in my cotton slacks and thin sweatshirt this afternoon convinced me otherwise.

Just a few hours earlier, I had been in the garden picking up red tomatoes for a big batch of salsa that my husband Jim planned to make that afternoon. I noticed a few brown spots on my basil leaves, and decided that tonight also would be a good night to make pesto. So I gave our basil plants a good "haircut," trimming them down to about one-third their size. Basil, like many herbs, benefits from such trimmings and will produce better if cut back from time to time.

I worked in the garden from about 10 a.m. to 1 p.m., picking tomatoes, winter squash, basil, cilantro, bok choy, and a couple of big bunches of kale and collard greens to deliver to the Franklin Street Community Center's food pantry with a dozen eggs. I worked under a pleasant sun and thought about how our tomato plants could very well keep fruiting through mid-October.

Then, the chill wind came.

Driving into town, I listened to public radio. Their weather forecaster said the scary words: Frost warning. Lows near or below freezing.

"I just turned my garden over last weekend," a worker at the Franklin Community Center said. "I'm ready for the winter."

Her words -- coupled with the forecast -- sent me to the Internet, so I could gauge what kind of damage a frost might do.

Most of our crops will be fine, I learned to my relief: greens benefit from a bit of frost as do celery, peas, and brussel sprouts. Carrots, turnips, radishes, beets, leeks, shallots, potatoes, and drying beans also will be fine, as well. But you might as well kiss tomatoes, basil, peppers, eggplants, and fresh beans good-bye.

I wasn't ready to do that.

I got home with about an hour of daylight to spare. I grabbed a bin and my kitchen shears and went into the summer gardens. I clipped hundreds of peppers, picked up another pile of tomatoes, and cut all of the basil plants down to their skeletal core. I snipped off an eggplant, two stray summer squash I had noticed growing, and a couple of handfuls of beans. As I worked, I found myself remembering the first year we lived on Squashville Road and the first fall frost we endured. We had come out in a damp, drizzly twilight with garbage bags, hoping to protect our pepper, eggplant and basil plants. The effort was almost for naught. The basil turned limp and brown, its once stalwart perked up leaves clung downward to the stems. The peppers stopped growing but seemed otherwise okay. I think the eggplant might have frozen; it tasted delicious once it thawed. But it was the basil that stood out in my mind. I couldn't bear to see its leafy foliage go so limp. I was going to cut it, no matter what.

       And so, our kitchen overflows with partially red tomatoes, beans, peppers, and basil. It looks and smells like incredible abundance. Yet, I keep feeling like the season went so fast. Wasn't it just last week that we were waiting for the ground to thaw so we could plant tomatoes? Wasn't it just yesterday that I put a stevia plant into the ground, near the basil? Did we just split the lemon grass that we have kept alive for two full summers now? How could it possibly be time to bring it all indoors?

Our growing season for the sun-loving solanaceous crops was short this year: the last frost date, normally May 9, was May 31. The first frost date, normally September 30, might be tonight (September 16) if the forecasts hold. But, of course, frosts don't end the food-growing season. We still have beans to pick, root veggies to pull and store, and scores and scores of herbs to re-pot or to bring indoors.

And, garlic planting begins in about six weeks.