No doubt

This summer and early fall has gone by so quickly that I've been somewhat reluctant to admit that it truly is fall, and winter truly is coming. But there can be no doubt now. From the leaves under my feet to the view of our forest from any window in the house, leaves are coloring and falling, drought be damned. 

The bean plants are in the compost, as are the indigo plants, which I was loath to pull because they have been such a delightful curiosity. The maples range from fiery red to orange to yellow, and while many predicted less vibrant colors this year due to the drought, I'm not sure I saw it. The colors did seem to be timed differently, and now they're almost done.

I drained and stored two of  our three hoses yesterday, and John blew out the irrigation lines. The patio is sealed, and the outdoor furniture stowed safely in my studio. 

 

 

We're almost ready for the freezing weather, at least physically. Psychologically, I find I am not looking forward to winter and snow as much as I usually do. It might be Jasper's absence. I've been taking our old usual hikes, and when I'm alone I can almost see him with me. . . waiting at a fork in the trail to make sure I'm OK; his intelligent face making sure I'm still with him, and then heading up the trail with renewed energy. It is amazing to be loved by a dog, but I was especially privileged to have him in my life.

 

Late Harvest

 

One never knows, but this may be our last harvest. It will surely be the last of the basil, since 30F is predicted for tonight. Basil gets insulted by anything under 35. 

The beans are still beautiful and tasty, and I don't remember how well they'll tolerate a freeze. Not well, I suspect. And why did I harvest green tomatoes? I have made several green tomato things in the past (chutney, mock mincemeat), and they are fine but unnecessary. I also tend to forget I have them, and then initiate a forehead slap in April or so. I have enough of those without green tomato chutney.

I do love these first chilly days, though. Yesterday's rain eased a good bit of stress (plant and human), and the rituals of the fall give a sense of preparation. Even control. Re-stain the patio furniture, bring all of the furniture to it's winter home (in my studio), drain, clean and  bring in the fountains, and of course, bring the English Hares to the front steps to guard us there, rather than in the garden. All good. It is nice to feel like we have modest control over these things, while the world spins unpredictably.
 

Fall and getting back to the studio

It is an odd fall. It's so dry. . . the experts say that we need 12" of rain to get out of this "extreme drought", and that's not likely to happen before the ground freezes. Weather is so squirrely, though, (not a word the experts use) that it's harder than usual to predict. I am deeply concerned for our forests. Ok. I'm deeply concerned on any number of topics.

I have finally gotten back to the studio post Jasper. I'm not making anything new or exciting, just exercising the technical muscles. I was inspired by a dress that I made. . .a trip to a Scarborough fabric store inspired the dress. . .all of which was behavior to try to distract me/us from our grief. And distract it did. But then I needed 9 buttons. Nine! That's a good number of buttons, and corresponding button holes. So I made them out of porcelain. They're ok, but for some reason my Coyote Green Matt glaze is no longer matt. It's still a lovely color, but I don't get why it's no longer matt. Maybe it's the combination of glazes that's freaking it out? Ah the vagaries of glazes.

It's not a great image, but you get the idea. I really like using Nichrome shanks and not having holes in the buttons. 

I also made a couple of bowls, and really like the glaze on these. Did I actually say that out loud? I like a glaze? Maybe I should just do everything with these glazes from now on. 

 

 

I also made a slip-trailed mug, but while I have loved this combination of glazes in the past, I'm not so impressed with it on this mug. It's just ok.

Finally, I brought some plant material in from the garden. . .just for show, as a Gary Larsen character once said. The hydrangeas outdid themselves this year, and I always love adding some asparagus ferns and other sundry plant material from the yard. They will all be gone in a month, so best enjoy them while we can.

The potatoes are harvested and stored, now and the pumpkins are mostly harvested, and displayed on the porch with the impatiens planters. There is such a bittersweet quality to fall. I have always loved it, but it all seems to be going by so quickly. The reality of winter's approach gives pause as it didn't when I was younger. It's a metaphor for too many things to contemplate right now. It is sobering.