Amanda: leaving the garden

Maybe everyone has as difficult a time getting away as I do, but I doubt it.  I shifted the sheep from a pasture north of here to some great grub on the plains.I applied myself to my garden, tilling between the rows, reseeding peas, arugula, lettuce.Put away my tillers.I hoed the tomatoes, so that any of my neighbours who will come and help themselves when I am gone, will not exclaim “Christ.What a mess!!How do tomatoes grow in here?”I vacuum-packed the trays of slow roasted ones and froze them.I dug some fingerlings for the road.

Roz and Clive did the long sheep shift.I worked Monty at hand afterwards.It is a sweet summer day here.Everything that I have done,except working dogs, is pleading with me to stay home.My mother keeps asking where I am going and when I answer, she says I’m nuts.If I have forgotten anything now,tough.

 I know I will stop worrying about half way across Canada, and then start thinking about cleaning Beverly’s clock.But the anxiety in the meanwhile.Goodness.

I will pick a couple of trays of tomatoes just before we leave, and a plant of basil.How can I make a tomatoe fest for Bev without basil and bocconcini?