The garden, attended to

A compost pile does not need to run hot to be worthwhile; it only needs enough air, moisture, and variety to avoid becoming a sealed heap.

Start with a loose floor of twiggy stems, then alternate thin layers of kitchen scraps with dry leaves or torn uncoated cardboard. Every addition of wet green material should disappear beneath a slightly larger blanket of dry brown material.

Push a garden fork into the center once a month and lift gently in two or three places. That modest opening admits air without turning the entire pile, and the finished compost at the bottom can be sifted out when it smells like woodland soil.

Green tomatoes near the first cool nights are less a crisis than a question of where the plant should spend its remaining energy.

Remove new blossoms and the smallest fruit, then thin only the leaves that block the largest clusters from morning light. Do not strip the vine; its foliage is still feeding the crop and shielding it from sharp afternoon sun.

Pick fruit once it turns pale green and slightly glossy if a cold night is forecast. Let it finish indoors in a single layer, checking every few days rather than hiding it in a paper bag and forgetting it.

Basil gets theatrical at the end of August, throwing flower spikes above leaves that have begun to thin.

Cut each stem just above a pair of leaves, taking no more than a third of the plant at once; the new shoots will be tender enough for the kitchen and sturdy enough for cooler nights.

Thyme wants a lighter hand, while mint can take a firmer trim and a deep watering. Gather the cuttings before the afternoon heat, then dry what dinner will not use on a clean towel away from direct sun.