I may neglect you a bit more than the others, but you’re never far from my heart. You contain my hopes and dreams, and the paths I’m taking to get to them.
Harvest time is a meandering process, I’m learning, in container gardening. We have tomatoes and peppers ready to come off the vine, while new fruit sprouts on the same plants. I need to look up when it’s time to harvest the sweet potatoes…they were a late planting, but they also got so much rain this season, I’m expecting some fungus or rot. The peppers aren’t turning (I was hoping for reds), but I may pick them anyway and see if they’ll turn off the vine, because they’ve been hanging around long enough. There’s just so much I still don’t know…
I need to start planning for frost, because I’m betting it could be upon us in as little as 2 months’ time. I sought out hoop covers at the local nursery, and their prices are fine. I need to do an inventory of the freezer, and get some baking or cooking done, because there are things I want to preserve that require either a pressure canner or freezer room (like pesto), and our freezer space is plain inadequate on a normal week. But clearing out the berries will help…and possibly finally saying sayonara to a huge hunk of wedding cake that has been through far too many temperature changes to be any kind of viable after 14+ years. I live with a romantic though, so that sacrifice may have to wait til the next anniversary
There’s such a wonderful variety of abundance at the farmer’s markets these days. The squash and peppers have taken an obvious hit from all the rain, melons probably too. But we still come away with such goodness. Lettuce popped up again to my delight, saving me a trip to Greenwise this week. And the best part is that with my newfound healthy eating regimen, the veggies are actually getting eaten!
I stepped outside this morning for my daily stretch. Damp and sunny out with a high-pitched buzzing of the bugs in the trees. The creek bed is nearly dry, because we’ve been getting rain in fits and starts for the last 2 weeks, but I wander to the overlook anyway and smile as the water splashes lightly over the bedrock down there. The occasional bird calls. Cars cruise by, heading to church probably.
I look down and notice red leaves stuck to the damp pavement, and I grin and look up, trying to find the source. It’s one of the black walnuts in our front yard, getting a jump on the autumn change, about halfway there while his buddies, the ash and oak, are still green. The oaks look like the green of their leaves has deepened, but maybe I’m just noticing the contrast because I’m attentive to it this morning.
I missed the deadline for the Taproot Breathe issue. I had started an essay on meditation and nature, but it was never more than an expanded blog post, and I’d love to step outside of my comfort zone, the blasted memoir, to something more informative. It bugs me that I couldn’t find the words for that article, but I also know the words will come when they’re ready, when I want and need them to.
I also know that I’m still very OK with not being able to quiet my mind enough to actually meditate, because the level of calm I drink in just from stepping outside every day feeds my soul in ways I’m still beginning to understand.