By the end of the day, I’d stacked fiber pots filled with dying plants into a mound that looked big enough to climb.

I was so proud of myself.

In years past, the end of our greenhouse season left me so worn out and depleted that I would jump immediately into something new and exciting, leaving the garden mess intact for next year.

I stepped outside today at about 5:00 PM, the time I like to take a few photos because that’s when the light is most beautiful.

Except now it’s almost dark.

Today was overcast, moving into dreary, and we’ve closed our garden center for the season. Our mums and pumpkins are gone.

I picked my last bouquet from my garden for the season today.

The end of my gardening season is bittersweet. Okay, more bitter than sweet. There’s not a whole lot that’s enjoyable to me about closing my garden.

But this year, I’m actually looking forward to its completion, and the peace that comes with finishing something.

Luke threw out our fall ornamental cabbage crop and I was surprised how unupset I was by him doing that.

I’ve been photoing cabbage since the middle of September. I can already hear it “Cabbage? Cabbage?” Next comes weird confused looks. Yes cabbage.

When I stepped in front of my butterfly house, I realized my 9-year-old son Leo had released my last monarch butterfly of the fall season. This was something I had really wanted to do together, so I was annoyed, but then I realized that if he’d enjoyed it, that would be enough for me. The second-to-last monarch had been released by my almost 12-year-old daughter Kate, accidentally. (Eye roll.)