zen and the art of accepting the inevitable...

the last pepper ripened a while back, signalling that it was time to bid farewell to what remained of the balcony garden plants that had been dragged indoors at the end of the summer.

the stems of the nasturtiums had grown thin and spindly in the effort to stretch toward the light, before yielding to the inevitable and draping lifelessly around the edge of the pot. i made one final harvest of fresh herbs to be added to future meals, then began the task of uprooting all the plants and returning the pots outdoors. 

i was in the middle of ripping out the dry nasturtium leaves, when i heard an odd noise. two odd noises to be exact. it was the sound of two small objects hitting the floor in quick succession. i moved aside the container of soil and there they were. 

it should be noted that nasturtiums are the sole aesthetic concession i tend to make when planting a vegetable garden. they are edible, but i grow them simply because i enjoy the shape of the leaves and the bright pop of color from the flowers. having grown nasturtiums on many occasions, i have never before noticed any seeds being dropped from the plants... until now. perhaps this was some form of reward for keeping it alive those few extra weeks. 

[random aside for my fellow Neuroscience nerds: dried nasturtium seeds look like chickpeas, but the green ones bear a striking resemblance to tiny brains. disturbing on so many levels.]

on that note... be well. Happy Turkey Day to all the people in-country, and to those of us living in self-imposed exile, i hope you have a truly ordinary Thursday.