Maybe that's asking too much.
But the sky IS gray today. The leaves have faded to brown, though most of them here are oak leaves, which are mostly brown in the fall anyway.
Maybe that's asking too much.
But the sky IS gray today. The leaves have faded to brown, though most of them here are oak leaves, which are mostly brown in the fall anyway.
Patient impatiens |
This is a first. My two containers of impatiens went ballistic this year, and they just keep blooming. I don't think I've ever had them during peak leaf fall. The hares have moved to the porch for the winter, and we are almost battened down.
However. Temperatures dipped well below freezing last night, and the leaves are suddenly almost all on the ground. Jasper and I had a wonderful walk along Flowalonski, which winds along the Messalonskee Stream.
Jasper in Fall |
And Jasper, freshly bathed yesterday. Handsome boy with those now strictly cosmetic ears.
Porcelain Mug, Cala lily |
Still. It is unseasonable, and one can't help but wonder what lies ahead. There was a time when I reveled in weather. Oh sure, I could always find something to complain about. That's what people who take growing things seriously do. But now contemplating what's next in our forecast is accompanied by a twinge of anxiety. It used to be that a big storm was somehow reassuring. It made me feel like humans weren't in control as much as we pretend to be.
Porcelain mug, Dogwood-ish |
Porcelain Bowl with spoon cutout |
Small Porcelain bowl |
Below is a smaller bowl that I glazed inside and out, then rimmed it in Emeraude. . .my favorite glaze (along with the old Ancient Jasper) for running; or in this case creeping.
Porcelain mug, left hand side |
Finally, my favorite porcelain in the batch. Again, this mug is only glazed on the inside. I've been drinking from it, and the jury's out. It's a good size, the handle feels just right, but I'm afraid that the unglazed outside may stain with heavy use. It shouldn't, since it's fully vitrified, but it has that feeling.
Porcelain mug, right hand side |
The buttons below are part of my maker self too. I just finished a linen dress ("Mom-green", my younger daughter calls the color), and needed buttons. I have so many choices now, but decided I wanted metal, not enameled, instead of ceramic. I found a package of Precious Metal Clay, and voila.
Fine silver buttons |
Even underfoot the color is remarkable.
The color isn't limited to our excursions, though. Our backyard is full of color as well. . . I wake up to the image below.
I also spent a little time in the garden this morning, tying back the raspberry canes to avoid lodging in the snow. . .premature, I know, but not THAT premature. . .
And I was able to harvest this small bouquet. The hydrangeas keep giving, and the hardier herbs, and even some basil, remain as gifts for the taking. The vase is a new design. I must have seen one like this somewhere (2 circles bowed out, with the top and the bottom slightly truncated), but I have no idea where. And I just realized that I never photographed it for my collection.The highbush blueberries are a blazing red, and the surprise was that two of the small Korean lilacs also put on a show of red in the fall. Nice.
I've finished harvesting raspberries now, but I thought this parting shot was worth documenting. The chipmunks harvest the raspberries too, and have them as a meal on the stone steps that are between the two raspberry cultivars. I think it's incredibly cute that they leave the seeds behind for me. We've got several patches of these on the 5 stone steps. I'm glad we can share, and not lose the crop.
Last week I hiked with friends along Salmon Lake. The leaves were coloring, but they're at full color now. . .just 5 days later.
Maine is full of these hidden gems of hikes. We have a wonderful series of trails in back of our house, but there are woods everywhere. You have to know about them, though, and the best way to do that is to "know a guy".
And of course, Jasper is ever present. Lending support to the ongoing mission of enjoying life, and trying to be worthy of our many riches.
Well, maybe more orange in this case? John took this photo while he was working on the Messalonskee Trail. It is very large. . .8" in diameter at least. He was told it's a Honey Mushroom, and then directed how to cook and eat it. But we're not that hungry, and probably not that bold. It also seems a little selfish to take it when it can be enjoyed by anyone who cares to look right where it is.
Speaking of art. . . this leaf is from a tree along our driveway. I picked it to see if it is from a Sugar Maple, but it turns out that it's from a Red Maple. Score for accurate naming.
I didn't spend much time in the studio this summer. . .between recovery (No Potting For You!) and the business of the growing season, there just wasn't much time. But as usual, I couldn't resist picking up leaves, twigs, and other bits as I walked with Jasper, and they somehow, in small moments, transform themselves into little bowls.
This technique isn't as easy as it looks. There are a lot of details, and of course glazing is always an issue for me.
I found this huge oak leaf in our driveway, prematurely downed, though the leaves are really starting to both color and fall now. I think it makes a nice, if not conventional, dish.
I thought this was a leaf from a striped maple, but in fact, since it's from a shrubbery, it's more likely a viburnum. You'd think that someone with my education would know for sure! Anyway, it's the largest of those listed above, and again, makes for a sweet bowl. I'm not terribly happy with the glaze on this one, but the veins are nicely emphasized.
Above is another rhubarb leaf platter. . .my third. Unfortunately, early successes are are often hard to repeat. You can see a nasty split along the middle vein where the clay separated when fired. You bake some and you burn some. I'm thinking of having a wall of despair that showcases these abject failures. . .We usually avoid the Rotary Trail, which runs alongside the Kennebec River on an old railroad bed. It's lovely. . . wide and flat. . .but often so peopled that I need to keep Jasper on his leash. He doesn't complain about that, but we both do our best work Off Leash. Smile.
Dogs are so accommodating. I don't ever want to take that for granted. Anyway, the rain staved off the people (the parking lot was empty at 9am), and we had a lovely drizzly walk. We paused to photograph the extreme damage done by last winters storms. We're trying to figure out how to pay to fix the damage. Ack.
I didn't walk out to the garden a single time today. That's the surest sign that fall is here. I remember wishing that water would fall from the sky in Boise. At 12"/year, it was not a common occurrence, and no one tried to grow anything without irrigation. Maine is different, of course, at 45"/year, though I had cause to appreciate the trickle irrigation we installed 2 years ago. We had had 2 summers of drought, and a lot of hand-watering. While most of the summer had ample precipitation this year, we ran into a 2-3 week period with no rain just prior to today.
Perennial plants don't look like they're doing much this time of year, but they are. They need resources, (water, light, some warmth) to prepare for the winter, shuttling carbohydrates down to their roots as their leaves senesce and fall. It's actually a pretty important time of year if you want them to come back in the spring.A couple of last shots of Jasper on the trail. Clearing predicted tomorrow, and the last of the apples will be harvested.
How did that happen? My original title for this post was "The Equinox cometh. . " and here we are post equinox. All things being equal (ha ha),it's ok. Fall is really pulling out all of the stops this year, and I feel like I'm never coming close to being caught up. It's hard not to see the beauty around us, though. The impending election makes me waver between hope and despair, but if I just keep my eyes on the now, I'm good. We're down to a few eggplant, a few cherry tomatoes, raspberries and the last of the apples, so the end of the harvest is in sight. I seem genetically predisposed to NOT WASTING ANYTHING, and this is proving a disadvantage as my energy levels are well below what they once were. My challenge for next year is to figure out how to have less. Odd, isn't it?
But! Some images from both hikes and garden are in order.
Hiking: Jewel weed (also called Touch-me-nots) because their little seed pods pop when touched, distributing the seeds.
Another feral aster. Blues, pinks and purples all grow together. No reds, though. Ha.
Sumac is one of the first reds to appear in the woods, though the maples are also coloring, and the ash are adding their gold-yellow to the mix.
Very sweet mushrooms growing out of the
knot of a tree.
Offers from the garden:
Fall Flowers |
Cultivated Asters |
Asparagus ferns |
Apples: Macoun, I think. |
Hydrangeas were amazing this year |
Daylillies blooming well past their sell-by date |
Eggplant: Outrageously beautiful |
When we were living in Australia, we started bat spotting as a regular evening practice. Our first experience with them was when we were biking home from a movie at dusk. We lived in downtown Melbourne, so is not a rural setting. We were lucky enough to rent a very urban garage that was right on the Royal Park, analogous to Central Park in New York City.
As we were coming through an open area in the park, we saw what looked like pterodactyls swooping around us. Their wingspans approached 6 feet. Am I exaggerating? Maybe a little. But they were large. Really large, and we eventually figured out that they were bats. . .locally called Flying Foxes. They are fruit eaters, which explained why everyone in the neighborhood had netting over their fruit trees in their very small patio gardens.
Fast forward to now, and we have continued our tradition of bat spotting, though not nightly. Now is the perfect time of year, though. It's dusk at about 6:30 or 7p, and we have a deck that is raised above the yard and overlooks the sunset and a lovely tree line. Our bats are considerably smaller. . . maybe a wingspan of 6-10". . .but they are so wonderful to watch in this mosquito prone environment. They swoop and dive and careen. They are only visible for about 30 minutes every evening. We've only seen 2 of them at any given time, but bats seem to be having a moment now. Much like octopuses were a couple of years ago. People are finally seeing these creatures with wonder and curiosity, rather than an automatic "other" reaction. That's got to be a good thing.
And I'm thinking some bat boxes might be in order soon. . .
As a final note, apples are in now! They are delicious, and the deer seem to agree. I've been bringing in the apples that deer have taken a bite or two out of, trimmed off the bitten parts, and added them to applesauce. We'll be well prepared for winter, as far as applesauce is concerned!
Because of the wet weather earlier, many of them have sooty blotch on the skin, but it's easily washed off and doesn't seem to affect the fruit quality at all. And we have been very dry for the past 2 weeks or so. I am at last very glad that we installed the drip irrigation to all of the beds. We're having a bit of warmish weather as well. . . low 80's and expecting up to 84F this week. I do find that the managing of the harvest and the canning/freezing/blahblah is much more taxing for me than it once was. My back hurts after too many hours on my feet, and I can see ahead to a time when I won't want to work this hard. But now is now. We're good. And well prepped for the winter.
Jasper and I in shadow on top of French Mountain |
So as busy as the garden is, we took a hike up French Mountain last week. The weather was perfect. Jasper was his pranciest Danciest self (which is pretty prancy/dancy. . .Jasper walks like a dressage horse when he's feeling spicey), and the air has just started to smell like Fall.
Lowbush Blueberries (Vaccinium angustifolium) |
The view of Great Pond from above |
Jasper |