The garden this morning

"O LORD, how manifold are your works! In wisdom you have made them all; the earth is full of your creatures." — Psalm 104:24

The counter is covered and I have no one to blame but myself.

Rutgers on the cutting board, Rutgers on the windowsill, Rutgers in the paper bag I set on the floor because there was no more room on the counter. Cherry tomatoes in the bowl by the back door, which is where I put them when I come in from the garden because I do not have a plan for them yet. I never have a plan for the cherry tomatoes. I eat them standing up, three or four at a time, warm from the sun, and I put the rest in the bowl and tell myself I will do something with them tomorrow.

July gives and gives and does not ask whether you are ready. The zucchini is the same. I have already left two on Edna's porch and she left one on mine, which is how the zucchini economy works in this county. Nobody wants it and everybody grows it and we pass it back and forth like a problem we are trying to solve by making it someone else's.

The light is different now. I noticed it this morning when I was out by six, before the heat settled in. The shadows are longer than they were two weeks ago. The garden does not know it is almost August but I do. The angle of the sun has shifted just enough that the tomato cages throw their shadows a little farther across the row and the morning lasts a little differently on my skin.

I pulled two cucumbers and a handful of beans. The beans are slowing down, which they do at the end of July, and the cucumbers are speeding up, which they also do at the end of July, and the whole garden is in the middle of its own calendar that has nothing to do with mine.

I will can tomatoes this afternoon. I will stand at the stove and work through the jars the way I have worked through them every July since I was old enough to hold a ladle, which was younger than most people would guess. My mother canned. Her mother canned. I can because they canned, and because the tomatoes are here whether I am ready or not.

Lord, thank you for too much.

Ruby keeps a collection of prayers at her kitchen table. You can find them here.