Parting is such sweet sorrow

I am an only child. Well, I'm an only child with four brothers, which makes me the only, the oldest and the token girl....I'm a total pain in the ass. It's complicated. But really, I spent my formative years as a full-fledged only child and I have the personality to show for it. I nee dmy alone time, I need to be entertained when I don't feel like alone time and I hate to share. Sure, I like sharing in the sense of bringing a dish somewhere so I can eat it too, but to full-on share something I really like in an way that causes me to sacrifice? No thanks.

I say this because we are leaving for our road trip tomorrow and I have an actively-producing garden. THIS is when I should be home, reaping the benefits of my blood, sweat, tears and farmers market purchases. My tomato plants are heavy with green tomatoes - I'm begging them to just hold on for a week and a half. I think they might. My blueberries, however, are another story. Thankfully, the harvest is close to over and I'm not leaving too many to be consumed by the birds or our house sitter (I know, I know, it's very nice that someone is checking in on the house and cats, but I can hardly share the berries with Western One). I've assiduously picked and frozen what I can't consume, and we will have pancakes and scones well into winter, but there is just something sad about the end of my blueberry season, especially when I won't be saving every last berry for myself.