“The entire history of mankind is, in any case, nothing but a prolonged fight to the death for the conquest of universal prestige and absolute power." – Albert Camus
The fall garden is ready. I know this because a woodchuck (or a rabbit, or a big vole) ate all but one of my beets. (The cabbage must not be ready because it's still standing.)

The critters are a great indicator of ripeness. Half-eaten tomatoes, peaches, apples, even squash, tell you it's time to harvest. Gardens are good. We watched the Martha Stewart documentary on Netflix this week. She says everyone needs a garden. I like that idea. Gardening has been good for my brain, so it's probably good for others. It's fun to manipulate our environment a bit.
One of the books I just finished is called "Four Lost Cities." Archaeologists studying these cities look for evidence of human manipulation. A wall here, a mound there, a fire pit, a trash pile, or actual human remains. Evidence of communities of humans trying to make a go of it in the world.
What I found most interesting in the book is the "lost" part. The cities are all known, especially to current residents, but things change. Cities grow and shrink. People come and go. If you asked citizens for the high-point of their civilization, you'd get as many answers as the number you surveyed. The answer will be debated by future historians.
In the next few days, this season's garden will be ripped out and the grounds prepped for next year. If I don't do any gardening or yard work for a few years, it won't take long before everything is overgrown, leaving little evidence of my efforts.
Things change. The fat little woodchucks, rabbits, and voles will move on. A new owner will dig around and think, what the hell?
It might be a good idea to print a few of these newsletters to put in a time capsule. That would give them a clue as to the origin of the brickwork buried in the back corner of the yard. It used to be a putting green before the kids grew up and Wilson the ABC started dragging the green around the yard like it was his job. Before the grass took over, and it started looking like just a mound.

Come to think of it, a little mystery is probably better.
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