September is for the Solananceae

September in the northern hemisphere garden is both the pinnacle of summer abundance, and the slide into longer, darker, fall evenings around the fire. My mornings still begin with a walk through the garden with my coffee (although now I’m waring shoes) and I work from the porch, or at my table under the Redbud tree, although I crave the warmth of the sun, even if it makes it hard to see what I am working on. But as the equinox approaches, and the temperatures dip, I find myself starting more of my work days in my studio.

The garden exists in this fuzzy moment between peak abundance and the end of the season, depending on where, or how, you look at things. The tomatoes are perfectly ripe, but the leaves have begun to fade. A lot of the flowers have begun to go to seed (I love to watch the birds eat them), but others, like the Dahlias, are just starting to appear — I cross my fingers and hope for plentiful blooms before the first frost.

I eat tomatoes everyday — mostly roasted at this point, so I can get the most possible flavor in every bite— I eat them out of a jar, with a spoon. At this rate I’m pretty sure I won’t have any for winter.

 In the Flora Botanical Arts Community, we learned about the Solanaceae family, learned how to paint shiny things, and painted a vegetable portrait (yes…a tomato:).

So truly, September was about tomatoes…