Last winter is gone.
That was hard, a rock-hard winter.
Winter suddenly fled in March, when the Gods flipped a switch that read “No more frost.”
And we had spring, spring at last, with the promise of the seeds and the seedlings.
And there were the promises of the eggs…
The heat was funny this year.
June and July weren’t particularly hot.
Real heat did not show until later on, in August. It was as if the season overslept, and only tardily became aware that, oh, yeah! It’s summer! I’M summer! I’m supposed to be hot! So it got hot. It was nice, solid heat, the kind of heat that makes happy a wife who spent her childhood in southern Florida, where the gods know how to make “hot”.
Now, in early September it’s still hot. The ocean water is still 75°, but the first hints of fall have come. In the last few days, western and northern winds have brought us cooler and dryer air.
The garden gives us baskets of produce daily.
Dealing with the prodigious yield of a late summer garden can feel like standing under a waterfall.
What to do with yet-more tomatoes, after freezing and canning quantities of them?
You can dry them.
The apple trees in town are covered with fruit.
We have been and still are running batches of apple slices through the dehydrator.
We’ve put up dozens of jars of applesauce for the dark days ahead.
A question: What happened to those catbird eggs?
An answer: They yielded catbirds.
Who are now hopping around in the garden.
Soon, they’ll be gone, off to warmer places, off to pass the winter in lands of forever-green.
Their September “miows” come from the bushes around Wishetwurra Farm.
Those sounds seed our cooling air with promises of another spring.