Garden produces a quandary: How to get rid of the produce?

This year, the bloom may have gone off the tomato.

Never one to do anything small, my husband, Grit, for a period had to quit running, so he ratcheted his way up to 8,000 sit ups a day to get a work out.

He now has done the same thing with his gardening.

Counting pumpkins, peppers and sundry other vegetables, plus his 382 tomato plants, and of course the seed plants such as corn, beans and peas, he likely is watering and harvesting nearly 2,000 plants.

That's no small task on an acre plot working by himself.

There's actually good reason for me to appreciate what he is doing.

At one time Lord Amhurst, one of the victors of the French and Indian War opined, "There are three easy ways of losing money — racing is the quickest, women the most pleasant, and farming the most certain."

If my husband is determined to throw away his time and his money, I certainly prefer farming to the other two.

Why am I not sharing in this particular activity? Because long ago I told him I married him for better or worse, but not for farming.

And though he teases me that he is going to set up a produce stand by Will's Pit Stop and chain me to it, there is no chance of that either.

He has had a grand time driving the tractor, plowing the field, making methodical designs for the garden and watching it all come to fruition. He even enjoys the harvesting.

But when it times to give the produce away, the bloom fades.

Times have changed. When we were growing up, our mothers canned everything possible, and many people had their own gardens or access to nearby orchards and farms.

My husband is finding he needs more canners — people who will come and get boxes of produce, not just a grocery bag.

Luckily there are many people who want to make salsa, something our mothers never heard of. Without them I would need to set up a produce stand by Will's Pit Stop.

When we moved from Salt Lake City in 1970 we took 10 big boxes of jars and Grit's mother's tomato juicer with us.

When we moved in 2005 I sent the juicer to Grit's sister, Marilyn, and trashed the jars. No one cans in Connecticut. Now they would come in handy, but I'm glad for the excuse.

Too bad, no bottles.