I recently read a quote that said, “If you are going to write about the garden you need to be in the garden.”
So here I am sitting on the rock border that has taken shape over the years by our little strawberry patch. Our beagle, who is rumored to be around 11, though I think he is likely closer to 14 or 15, is napping in the comfortable fall sun at my feet.
The clover and grass is a healthy, tangled, soft forest of green beneath my feet. Sophia has taken up her ceremonial position in the sandbox, creating and destroying empires. Liam is too excited to stick around because Auntie Moe and the boys are here.
The neighbor’s sugar maple is beginning to blush. Her leaves are turning a dark crimson. The apple trees on our lawn are trying to keep pace and have discarded a few select leaves of their own.
The sunflowers, heavy with seed, hang their heads in silent prayer while the corn continues to dry buried deep within a womb of husk. The red cabbage is ripe for the harvest but I will probably leave them in the dirt for another week or two. After some initial trouble the squash has made a bold advancement. I’m just not sure if it is the New Jersey cheese wheel or the butter cup squash that is swelling on the vine.
There are some stragglers in the garden. A few heads of lettuce and some Brussels sprouts. There are even a few black beauty zucchini making a final push before fall closes in.
As I look around the garden I can already see the adjustments I will be making next spring. But for the moment I need to just sit back and enjoy summers curtain call, take in all the sounds and scents while I reflect on a summer well spent.