Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for peppers to pick.
The near-freezing night time temperatures mean one thing ... harvest time is near.
I concede that the watermelons won't mature. They're curious plants - amid the withering leaves sit a few fresh blossoms. In a few weeks, I'll dig up the vines and cut up the immature fruit before adding them to the compost bins.
At least I can reap a pepper crop. I am tempted to pick the dozen or so peppers but decide to wait at least one more week. The mariachis sport a reddish cap near the stems. In a few days, each pepper will blush boldly, wearing their finest fall colors just for me.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
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