In this case, a tiny life goes on the nearly defunct celery, crawling spotlessly for the camera.
That celery patch has been a prolific and shockingly strong-flavored crop ever since we planted it last summer. We felt guilty for not harvesting as much as we could, but jeepers, after a while, the green-shoe-polish taste of the ribs got to be nearly too-too.
Not that we didn't love it! We just didn't love it enough to eat it all up.
We dug up a few heads of celery and gave them away. The others, we merely trimmed off stalks as needed, and left the rest to grow.
Finally, this spring, the stalks are kaput. Woody, hollow. Time to throw in the trowel.
And, yet, the seed heads are sprouting, so beautifully. If I wait a little longer, will I be able to collect celery seeds?
And can I cut off the celery leaves before they turn brown (already I'm seeing tinges), and preserve them, maybe by blanching and freezing?
I am getting impatient. The stalks that support the seed heads are still just barely juicy and tender enough to dice and cook with. But every time I chop down a stalk, I sacrifice a blossom. Nature's funny that way.
I've decided to hold out a little longer before digging up the entire patch. Somebody besides me is fond of the garden.