Live each season as it passes; breather the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit and resign yourself to the influences of each. – Thoreau
There’s really no getting around it. The signs are all there.
Dead plants. Wrinkled fruits, castoffs, blending into the leaves. Next year’s volunteers.
Cold temperatures. Chimney smoke. Hats and gloves.
Summer is over.
I’m a bit of a sourpuss. A real downer. A pessimist. And I am best summed up I think by a portion of a poem that I heard somewhere once and don’t know who wrote it:
Today is the first day of spring… I can’t help but think of the last day of autumn.
Hope springs eternal except that I eternally expect winter. And, indeed, winter is coming.
The garden this year was again a fantastic part of all of our lives. I think back to digging it out, tilling it, fencing it. I remember a beautiful spring saturday when my two sons and I took a ride out to an old mill that’s been selling seeds and plants for decades. We had ice cream together and Kyle helped push Sean in his stroller and made him laugh over and over.
Even further back. I remember sketching the first plans for expansion on graph paper last December. I remember ordering seeds. Starting them. Killing them! Starting them again. Hardening off. Predicting the last frost. Harvesting. Cooking.
I am certain that I am not endlessly fascinating, but it’s been awfully fun to blog all of this. Even when the tomatoes died and a little piece of me went with them, it felt good to write about it.
So, this season is over. I’ve got a few more blogs to do about some of our final harvests, but… it’s over. Self indulgence time. Here are the posts I most enjoyed this season for one reason or another. I hope that you liked them too!