Where Late the Sweet Birds Sang

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
            From Shakespeare’s Sonnet LXXIII

The autumn leaves reached their peak last week. They began early and are going fast. I think the glorious fall spectacle is a gift from God. He could have designed the trees so that their leaves just turn brown and drop off, but he made them finish with a dazzling flash of color, a gift to help us bear the bleakness of the monochrome winter that lies ahead. There are still some gorgeous trees around, but most of them have begun to fade and many have dropped their leaves, helped along by rain and wind during the week. One of my big front yard maples is bare, but the others have held on to their bright leaves and when the morning sun shines through them, it floods the yard and the house with golden light. It makes the mornings magical.

Golden mornings in Gold.

The first of October.

I had such plans for the week. I was scheduled to be in school all week, but the afternoons were free and I planned to take advantage of any nice weather before predicted cold and rain arrived. But I came down with a bad cold on Sunday evening and all my plans were for nought. I had to cancel my school days. I didn’t get my planned outdoor work done. I don’t get sick very often and when I do, I don’t handle it well. I get frustrated and I brood and become introspective, contemplating my mortality. It was agony sitting inside sneezing and coughing on those beautiful autumn days with my box of tissues, my Vicks Vapo-Rub, and my herbal cold tincture. But I’m happy to say, other than a persistent cough, my cold is almost gone. But now so is the warm weather.

I wasn’t in school all week, and I couldn’t do much outdoors, but I had barn quilt orders to work on. So I spent hours up in my workroom painting and waiting for paint to dry. While I waited, I watched one of my favorite shows, The Repair Shop. I’m always a bit surprised at the emotion I feel as I watch them repair and restore old items that mean so much to their owners. I get weepy a lot when I watch The Repair Shop, but in a happy way.

On Monday our friend Irvin Gingerich and his crew arrived and began working on the front porch roof. They came back on Tuesday and did more work. They should finish it this week. Once the roof is on, we’ll work on getting the floor, the railing, and the steps done.

Work on the porch, day one.

Day two.

The new roof from above.

On Wednesday Kurt and Julie’s son Chase and his family arrived for a visit. They will be here for two weeks. They have five children between the ages of eleven and five, so there is a lot of energy over at the Shillig’s house right now. Miriam lived with Chase and his family for a while and the children adore her. She plans to spend a lot of time with them while they are here, going on various adventures.

Wednesday evening I was feeling a little better and needed to get out, so I went with Stacey on a drive up to the town of Howard in Steuben County, New York, to pick up the meat from our pigs we had butchered two weeks ago. It was a beautiful drive. Steuben County is a beautiful part of New York. The sky was cloudy, but the sun shone through now and then and illuminated the bright fall leaves. We picked up eight boxes of hams, roasts, bacon, sausage, steaks, and chops. As we drove home again, once again my prevailing sickness mentality had me reflecting on the nature of life and death and the boxes stacked behind me that held what once were pigs. I’m grateful for the nourishment and security those pigs are providing for my family and I felt keenly the cost of it. By the time we got home it was dark. We loaded the meat into the freezer and it felt good to see it there. Then we spent the rest of the evening starting the rendering process for lard. We had the butcher save all the fat for us. Most people don’t do that these days. We cut the fat into small pieces and set it to roast at low heat. It takes hours for the fat to melt, so it roasted all night. I got up early the next morning and poured off the liquid lard and set the cracklings to roast some more. Out of two pigs we rendered nine quarts of lard. The best tortillas, tamales, pie crusts and biscuits are made with lard.

On our drive through Steuben County.

Stacey working on the lard, and boiling some tomatoes.

The lard.

It looked like Thursday would be the last chance to do things outdoors for a while. There was rain in the forecast for Friday and I knew there wouldn’t be time to do anything on Saturday because of other plans and General Conference. I harvested the last of the cabbages. I had apples that needed to be picked. They were ripe and dropping from the tree. Because I’ve been under the weather, I enlisted the help of the whole Shillig crew next door and we went out in the early afternoon and picked and filled boxes and buckets and bins. It was great having so much help. That evening after Stacey and Hannah got home, we loaded it all up and drove up to Lain’s Cider Mill in Canesteo, New York. We’ve taken apples there to be pressed before. We loaded the conveyor and watched as the apples were washed, mashed, and pressed. We ate Lain’s homemade apple cider donuts while we watched. We got 57 gallons of cider, the most we’ve ever done. Some I’m making into vinegar. I already started the first fermentation. Some of the cider we gave away to friends, some we refrigerated to enjoy now, the rest of it went into the freezer so we can enjoy in the months ahead. If we’re careful, it will last until next year’s cider season. Apple cider is one of the things I love most about fall.

The last cabbages.

Picking apples.

Loading apples.

At the cider mill.

The mashed apples.

Pressing the mash.

Bottling the cider.

Loading it to take home.

The first step in making vinegar, fermentation.

I made a discovery while we were at the cider mill. I was told long ago by my aunts that the big tree whose apples we just pressed is a Northern Spy tree. But over the years as I’ve studied apple descriptions, I began to doubt that. These apples just don’t match the description. So while we were at Lain’s I asked the owner, who knows his apples, what he thought they were. He looked at them and tasted one and said, “These are King apples.” So I checked and, sure enough, they fit the description. They are formally called Tompkins King or King of Tompkins County, but most people call them just King. Mr. Lain said it is not a common apple now, but a great all-purpose variety. I’m glad I know for certain now, but I still want a Northern Spy tree, so I will order one in the spring just to make things right in the orchard after telling people all these years that I had one.

The mornings are usually cold and foggy now, typical of October. When I go out on my morning walks and to fill the bird feeders, there is no dawn chorus of the birds. I no longer see the summer birds. The grosbeaks, red-wings, robins, and wrens are gone now. The swallows and hummingbirds left a long time ago. When I went out yesterday morning, the trees were full of yellow-rumped warblers that I assumed were headed south. From now until next spring, my avian companions will be my winter friends. When I walk in the mornings, I like to stay out long enough to see the sun break through the fog. These October mornings are unbelievably beautiful.

Foggy morning.

The sun starts to break through.

Walking through the meadow.

Up the road toward home.

Yesterday was the Amish Fall School Auction out in North Bingham. We love to go to the Amish Auctions. We went this time hoping to buy some fall produce, especially grapes. The whole gang went. We had a lot of fun. We found out that it’s especially fun and a little dangerous to take Kurt. He had a great time bidding on things. We ended up getting no grapes – there weren’t any – but we got tortillas, walnuts, potatoes, and other food items. The kids loved the donuts. The auction is to raise funds for our local Amish schools. The drive to and from the auction was beautiful. North Bingham is where my Grandmother Howe’s people come from.

The Amish auction.

The auction.

The Shillig kids eating donuts.

A game of volleyball in progress.

Driving through North Bingham.

This is General Conference weekend. We always look forward to General Conference in April and October. Yesterday we watched all the sessions but had some trouble with the internet and missed parts of some of the talks. What we heard was excellent. At noon and 4:00 today we will listen to the last sessions. In a world full of contention, division, and turmoil, it was good to hear the church leaders speak of love, charity, and unity.

The week ahead will be full of fun. Rachel and her girls will arrive later this evening to spend a few days with us. They wanted to come and hang out while Chase and his family are here. I know there are all sorts of excursions planned. I don’t know how much of it I will be able to participate in. I have some things that need to be done. We have a load of firewood due to be delivered tomorrow. I have a patch of flint corn to harvest. The workers will be here to work on the porch sometime. And the beautiful October colors will continue to dazzle us for a while yet.