Just Peachy


We picked the last peach today.

I didn’t realize they would be gone so quickly. I left them on the tree as long as I could as if somehow they would miraculously be given extended life, go on for as long as I wanted.

I lost about half of the production to fruit drop. Animals got to them on the ground.

I thought there were more. I was going to bring the rest in today, put them in a bowl, savor them slowly.

There was one left when I went out into the misty, cool morning yard.


Miles said, “Can I have it?”, never having wanted any that I offered before until now, until the last one.

We shared it, dripping, juicy, cool from the morning air, superlatively sweet, the last peach of August.



For Miles’ FIFTH birthday party on Saturday, I picked a posy from the garden.

Then  Miles was crabby had a temper tantrum melted down insisted that I pick one for him as well.

the roses are particularly nice this september

Golden day

What is it about fall that is so poignant, so soul-drenchingly rich in bittersweet? It’s the color of the sunlight at just that right angle and the feel of the air, warm but with just the slightest undertone of crisp, the glorious last hurrah of the garden’s bounty, the golden tones of the sounds that waft through the rich air




I’m lucky enough that a variety of solidago plants have cropped up here and there in my yard.


Solidago, from the Latin:  “to strengthen or make whole”


Medicinal properties: Anti-catarrhal, anti-inflammatory, anti-microbial, astringent, diaphoretic, carminative, diuretic.


Plus, “goldenrod”, that’s just a pretty name.  Everyone could use a little solidago.



First Frost

Something is very bittersweet about the first frost.  The end of the growing season is coming, ushered in by the cold rime of a billion shiny points of frozen water, harbinger of the coming halt of verdant life.

Life becomes slower. Things fall asleep, dreaming under a blanket of white about the coming rebirth of springtime.

We cozy up in warm socks with cups of tea and books in hand (ok, parents of little ones actually DON’T do this but one can dream, can one not?), or sketching next year’s plots, perusing seed catalogs, adding up totals, reluctantly scratching off the  Black Pearl Ornamental pepper, one packet for $4.95, and put in instead the prairie grass ($2.75) for the wild corner, and weigh and consider and in our heads the profusion of flowers and vegetables that will adorn our gardens next year (except NOT, because it NEVER turns out as good in reality as it was in your head. chalk one more thing up to experience. try again NEXT year. AGAIN.) unfold and flourish.

First frost.

End and beginning.

Sunny dive-bomb

Fruits of Harvest

I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to get the canning thing going and with 27 tomato plants, I REALLY wanted it to happen.

Apparently, with the glasstop stove, some of them don’t get the water boiling hard enough to maintain a constant temperature, or something or other like that. I ordered a kit from Lehman’s dot com only to find that the graniteware pot isn’t recommended for smooth top stoves.  So then I went looking for a smooth bottomed stock pot that could hold quart size jars, only to find that it would be too large for the burner.

I have finally ended up buying more pint jars and am just going to can everything in those. It may take longer but in the longer run, we’ll have homemade tomato sauce this winter to enjoy in our chilis and spaghetti sauces!

I’m so glad I’ve learned to can. It’s so easy and so fun and it really gives a sense of acomplishment 🙂

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