I’m teaching a novel structure class. Freytag’s pyramid, which he diagrammed in 1863, describes a 5 act drama.

1. Exposition–or rather, an introduction
2. Rising action–building suspense
3. Climax–the big showdown
4. Falling action–tying up loose ends after climax
5. Denouement/Resolution–the end, whether problems are resolved or not resolved

Late Winter and early Spring is the time for a garden’s exposition. Planning. Buying seeds. Germinating them indoors or in the greenhouse. It is an exciting time full of possibilities. Every year, I also work on a few experimental plantings–like gourds in Berkeley and cucamelons that are new on the seed scene. And many different kinds of peppers in hopes of making hot sauce. I also planted blue sesame plants for the first time. Some other items I planted for the first time: meadow arnica, schisandra, myogi ginger, cherimoya, wasabi, warren pear, coolidge pineapple guava, burdock, rocoto, blacktail watermelon, and a banana.

Then they’re transplanted into the ground sometime in Spring or early Summer, and the rising action begins. New variables like the weather and sunlight and fertilizer and soil quality and insects and pests and diseases come into the picture. The weather warms. But fog might roll in. Things get more complex. The plants spread their roots, begin budding and growing, and produce fruit and vegetables for harvest. Progress is measurable and visible. Sometimes, there are surprises. Like raccoons that party like gangsters in the garden each night, digging up mulch to search for grubs. Or really, just dig up plants for no good reason other than the fun of it. And of course, the clematis vine that never ever ever flowers. And powdery mildew. Always powdery mildew over here.

There are welcome surprises, too. Like one pluerry fruit the first year of a pluerry tree’s planting. Lemon guava fruiting for the first time since I planted it last year. More passion flowers than I can count. Infinite sweet pea flowers. Tomatoes and after tomatoes.

Everything reaches a tipping point. Reaches a crescendo. Reaches climax.

At a garden’s climax, the tomatoes and squash and cucumbers and eggplants and beans and peppers and corn–nearly everything is ready to harvest, almost at once. It is thrilling. This is the point I’ve been waiting for all year.

But also–the problems that existed earlier in the season in smaller quantity become even more evident now; I am battling powdery mildew that threatens to kill my squash vines on the squash arch. It’s coming at me with a vengeance now, because I let the first whispers of powdery mildew go overlooked earlier.

The myogi ginger fell over and died a couple weeks ago. The schisandra is yellowing–and I’m not sure that’s normal (I have to look up whether or not it’s deciduousthank goodness this is normal–they’re deciduous). The blacktail watermelon, which fruited with great hope earlier–has stalled. The watermelon fruit is about four inches in diameter. Yes. FOUR. The cool foggy Berkeley weather has triumphed there. The meadow arnica is tiny but growing. My blue sesame plants never flourished. The raccoons keep coming. Even as the garden is at its peak, it is at its most vulnerable.

Things are literally falling over–dahlias heavy with bloom. Tomato plants busting out of their Florida weave.

And they will fall over–what will follow is falling action. The tying up of loose ends after harvest. Cutting plants down. Building compost. Cooking the harvested vegetables.

I’ll sow cover crops. Sow some winter garden crops like carrots and kale and lettuce. But mostly, I will let the soil rest and rejuvenate. There is resolution–what pests haunted the garden before will no longer be relevant. If one spot was particularly powdery-mildew-susceptible, I’ll plan on planting something different there next year.

But mostly, I will be better off than I was the year prior, because of this garden. Even if a bit tired.

In tragedy, the protagonist is worse off. In comedy, the protagonist is better off at the end than at the beginning.

Here’s to comedies. And gardens. And urban farms.