A Greenhouse in Late September and the Harvest That Saved My Husband

to crack the papery skins away from the purple flesh of the garlic. His fingers were steady, the silver-plated mixing spoon reflecting the pale kitchen light where it lay on the wooden counter beside the cutting board.

I sliced the skins of the Cherokee Purples, dropping them into the boiling water for ten seconds before lifting them into the cold bath.continue reading …