Summer is over and the overabundant tomatoes have started to sit in suspended animation. A walk in the garden’s detritus is a confirmation that the heat is over and the sky has turned to a watery blue. The melons and herbs are edged with frost in the mornings. Uncharacteristically sober, there is a certain sere sweetness to seeing the jolly fruits of summer with frost playing around their edges. Tomatoes that were basking in the intense sun just weeks ago are covered with frost crystals, melons are half eaten by the deer but devoid of ants, the stems and leaves are browning yellow with just a tinge of green where robust green was. There is a beautiful smell when all these dying abundances are fading, and that is what The Dead Garden commemorates. Fruity, herbal.