So Long, Summer

Three weeks ago, I was working in this garden.

Recently, though, salads have lost their appeal and we’re craving hearty, savory food. I’m cooking the last of last year’s hams for supper tonight, because this year’s pig is almost ready for slaughter. It was a strange wet summer. The tomatoes took forever to fruit, and most are still green, way past the time they’re usually done.

Those that ripened fell off the vines or developed black spots.



Some things did well, though.












The green thing behind the pumpkin looks like a pumpkin but is precisely the color of an acorn squash. Here’s another photo of it.













The pumpkins and acorn squash were planted next to each other; the bees must have played a prank on us. Wonder how it will taste?


The last week or so has been pretty crazy, between the putting the garden to bed and having to spend a week in Boston while on a tight deadline. I managed to insert some anti-Creationist messages in a high school science text, though. For example, you often hear the argument, “Evolution is just a theory. Just someone’s opinion. Why should I believe it?” So I gave the kids some reasons, and some ways to answer that question. The ones that can’t handle uncertainty, though, well, I can’t help them. I remember how anguished I was when I first figured out that I could probably never possess The Truth; that was a tough concept to accept. Trying to figure stuff out all the time is plain exhausting. So it’s not surprising that people balk at the notion that the way we understand our world is subject to constant reinterpretation and latch onto A Truth.

Summer has lingered, but last night there were frost warnings, not here but west of here, where the weather stops off first before it rolls over us. Several counties had frost warnings, and a couple had freeze warnings. Our elevation meant we’d get frosted for sure, so I raced the sinking sun to pick what I could and shroud the tomato vines with old sheets, pegged on with clothespins to keep the wind from hogging the bedclothes. Then, in the chilly, smoke-smelling dark, we hauled in a couple of tons of pellets for the stove.












Today dawned clear and still, perfect conditions for frost.














And sure enough.


















So long, garden, and thanks.













Now the foliage will turn in earnest -- what’s left of it. A lot of the leaves are gone already. The bracken’s dying and giving up its wonderful rich berrylike smell.





And the air has turned; suddenly it’s got a bite. But thanks to Calamity, I’m wonderful rich berrylike biteproof!


Thanks, Calamity honey!!