When the growing season ends, some gardeners (and some lovers) will pull a withered embrace of sweet peas from the supporting trellis, sweep puckered tomato kisses off a stained patio floor, and say “so long” to root-bound, disappointing efforts.     They’ll feel free at last.     No longer engaged     in watering, feeding, weeding.         Free . . .         until amnesia         floats in         on a soft spring breeze.

Jenny Lovewell

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