I was dragging the last of my garbage bags to the gate when I met a fellow gardener on her way in. She kindly spun the combination lock for me and stepped aside as I moved the four contractor bags to the curb.
"Did you get it all cleaned out?" she asked me through the chain link as she locked back up.
"Pretty much," I told her. "That's my plot in the corner." We scanned my empty beds, and she nodded appreciatively.
"I'm in that one over there," she gestured over her shoulder.
"Are those your tomatoes I can see?" I asked.
She nodded wearily. "They're still going for now, but I hope to take them out this afternoon." She frowned. "I'm always so excited to get started in the spring," she sighed, "but it all seems like such a chore at the end of the season."
"There is something cathartic for me in seeing the empty plot," I replied, considering the last three hours I'd spent.
"I guess so," she agreed. "But only because it will be ready in the spring!"
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