September 9th, 2007

flying snow


It is now fall.

The nights have turned cold. The days went from 80+ to 50's in just three days.  The wind howls, the sky darkens.  The green leaves have not too much longer to go and the compost piles will be happy to have another dose of the browns rather than all the greens it got all summer.

It's definitely not summer anymore.  The kids are definitely back in school.  With Labor Day going by, the zucchini plants fell off production abruptly and absolutely.  The tomatoes aren't madly producing anymore, and the ones that are now coming off are not quite as huge and succulent as the ones before. The onions and carrots are pushing themselves out of the ground.

We made tomato soup yesterday.  Onions, carrots, thyme, four cups of barely chopped tomatoes, and a bit of chicken broth to lend richness.  I used the stick blender on it until I could eat it without wanting to chew, and it was quite good.  Something to do with the frozen tomatoes come winter, I think. 

I should probably buy big packages of meat at the local butcher to put in the freezer for the winter, get it cheap and all-natural pork or grass-fed beef.  It's meat time, fall is.  Chickens for summer, meat in the fall, and anything you can get in the winter.  *laughter*  Butternut squash are just appearing at the farmer's market, expensive, still, but firm and beautiful from the summer.  Peaches are sweet, smooth and soft and perfectly juicy. 

I love Spring.  I love setting up the garden, getting the seedlings going, raising them up until they can go out on their own. I hate fall, and the harvest time, when the plants go to waste, the unpicked produce during the summer all rotting on the ground, the overripes ones falling and squishing between ones fingers, the sheer waste of of the season always unnerves me.  The manager at the OUR center doesn't understand it, he says he loves the harvesting time, but then he also rips up plants, uncaring of their continued time or existence.  It bothers me that it all dies, at some level.  Sure, it'll all come back in the spring, but... for now... it's the dying time, when all the plants fling out their last hope at reproducing, in huge extravagances of production, and all some people can see is the bounty when sometimes all I can see is the dying. 

Maybe I should change my attitude, some, but sometimes I think it's good to mourn their passing.  Acknowledge it and the gifts they give.  Then go on to just hunkering down for the winter and breaking out of the freezer or pantry just a bit of that summer sweetness to savor while the winter tries to win the world again.
  • Current Mood
    contemplative contemplative

The Boulder Knit Out

It was fun.

It more fun since I brought Jet with me to it.  He carried his camp chair and his knitting bag, a big turquoise bag into which he put his whole spooling kit, his hand-made spooler, and all his yarn and needles and a yarn cutter.

"Mom," he said, "I have more knitting equipment than you do."

I just nodded, "It's likely, Jet."

I brought the Phoenix sweater, and it had the desired affect.  Even though I knew no one, people got up out of their chairs and came over to look at it and touch it and admire, which was a good way to start a conversation for me while I was amidst strangers. 

Jet, on the other hand, set up his chair next to a lady from Denver, and said, "See my cording thing?" And went on to describe in detail how his spooler worked.  He is very much like his father.  It's a good thing.  He happily talked and had conversations with a few of the ladies there, and he worked very quietly and with all his concentration on his knitting.  He was great. 

John did great, too, and brought us lunches of smoothies and pot stickers. He did all the shopping I wanted done, and by the end of the Knit Out, we had a bag of produce along with a bit more knitting done.  All in all it was a win.  :-)
  • Current Mood
    accomplished accomplished
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