Summer in September

We had wonderful summer weather for the first half of the week. The mornings were cool and dewy. The days were warm, even hot. On Thursday rain arrived and has been with us ever since. But that’s okay, we needed it. September is definitely starting to look like autumn. Along the road and in the uncultivated fields, the world has gone golden. The tall grasses have ripened to a tawny gold and the goldenrod is in full bloom. The trees seem anxious to change. I can see fall colors starting on the hills, and in my own yard the ancient maples are starting to yellow and drop leaves. We like to think our best fall color comes in the first weeks of October, but some years it starts early and is all done by then. I think this might be one of those years.

Goldenrod in the meadow.

Monday was Labor Day and we did labor through the day. Stacey and I went out in the morning and picked broccoli and cauliflower which she then blanched and froze. I worked for several hours down at the barn reinforcing the fence around the chicken yard. It was a hot day. We hit 88°. We’d planned to have a cookout, but it was too warm to carry everything outdoors, so we stayed indoors. We still had the proper food – hot dogs, hamburgers, potato salad, broccoli salad, lemonade. Miriam made homemade hamburger buns which were a treat. And for dessert she made hazelnut thumb print cookies with a dab of Nutella in the middle. They were delicious. We also had ice cream, which was perfect for a hot day. The Shilligs came over and our missionaries joined us. Hannah arrived home from her conference in time for dinner.

Picking broccoli.

Miriam's homemade hamburger buns.

A Labor Day hamburger.

Miriam's hazelnut thumb coolies.

When I was younger, Labor Day was known as the Last Fling of Summer. School always started the day after. Now school starts in August here and even earlier in other places. I remember always feeling a sense of dread on Labor Day as the first day of school loomed dead ahead. I always suffered from back-to-school anxiety. I guess I still do to some degree. Labor Day does feel like an end-of-summer celebration, even though there are technically still nineteen days of summer left.

Gladiolus on the wood stove (not in use yet).

The beginning of September is a slower time out in the flower garden. I’ve given up on weeding. I’ve stopped deadheading plants. I’m in the calm days, waiting for frost to come. Then I’ll tear it all out, dig most of it up, and get ready for next year. In the meantime, it’s nice to go out and enjoy the garden and ignore all the weeds and other things, knowing that drastic changes are soon to come, just a frost away. Not that I’m anxious for frost. No. These warm days can stay on into November and I’ll be happy.

September morning.

September.

The flower gardens might be relaxing right now, but the vegetable gardens are in a frenzy of activity. Every day we’re picking, digging, chopping, boiling, or drying something. I love these days when we eat fresh from the garden – sweet corn, new potatoes, green beans, broccoli – all of it just picked. Putting up food for the cold months is fine and necessary, but there’s nothing like eating it fresh. We finally had enough tomatoes ripen to do something with them besides just eat them. I canned a batch of sauce on Wednesday. The cooking tomatoes filled the house with a wonderful smell, one that I know I will get tired of later when I’m sick of canning tomatoes, but for now, I love it. During the week we picked corn, dug potatoes, cut cabbage, and trimmed onions. Harvesting is hard work and time consuming. I love it, and I’m glad when it’s done.

Red potatoes.

The pumpkins are ripening.

While digging potatoes one morning I found a woolly bear,(the larval form of the Isabella tiger moth (Pyrrharctia isabella). According to folklore, the thirteen segments of a woolly bear’s body are supposed to correspond to the thirteen weeks of winter. The lore says that a broad rusty band means a milder winter, large black bands at the head and tail mean a severe winter at the beginning and end, an all brown caterpillar indicates a very mild winter, and an all black one means an Ice Age is coming. Our winters here last far longer than thirteen weeks, so already the lore’s applicability is questionable. According to the one I found, this winter will start out cold, but will be milder in the middle, and the final round of cold will be short. We’ll see how that goes. I hope some year to find an all brown one. Never an all black one.

The woolly bear I found.

An Isabella tiger moth.

While I was picking sweet corn for dinner last week, I came across an ear infected with smut, the fungus Ustilago maydis. It was quite grotesque looking. In Mexico corn smut is known as huitlacoche and is considered a delicacy. The ones I found were past their prime. I read that some high end restaurants have tried to get Americans to eat more of it by calling it the Mexican truffle, but it hasn’t really caught on. I was not tempted in the least to try it. Maybe our friend Otilia could cook it up in some way that might entice me to try it. I don’t know. It just looks too ugly to eat.

Smut in the corn patch.

Wednesday was the hottest day of the week. We hit the predicted 90°. We don’t get heat like that here very often. The weather service called for rain for the rest of the week and I was scheduled to be in school on Thursday and Friday, so I mowed the lawn. I like mowing the lawn. It’s a sort of noisy hour’s meditation for me. I pondered on things while riding the mower back and forth, around and around. I contemplated the garden – this year’s successes and failures, plans for next year. Sometimes I sing as I mow. This time it was Primary songs in alphabetical order. The chickens love it when I mow. I always throw a couple of bags of grass clippings into their yard. When they see that I’m mowing, they line up along the back fence, waiting for me. They love to scratch through the piles, eating a bit of grass and whatever other tasty tidbits they can find – bugs, seeds. The lawn is not growing much now. It always slows down in September. I only need to mow once a week, but soon my mowing will be mostly grinding up fallen leaves, not cutting grass.

Sunflowers.

Thursday I was in school for the first time this year. As I prepared to leave the house that morning I had that old queasy feeling. It’s silly, I know. I’m the teacher now. But it happens anyway. When I got there, my classes were almost all ninth graders, and after spending most of the day with them, I’m pretty sure they are not fully human. When I left school (at last) it was 86° and starting to rain. I had a haircut appointment and drove directly to Genesee. On my way there, the rain turned into a thunderstorm. It poured rain and the thunder and lightning were tremendous. After my haircut, I came home and changed into my work clothes and went down to do the chores. The storm had let up a bit, but the temperature had dropped to 66° – a drop of twenty degrees in an hour! The chickens had retired inside to get our of the rain. When I finished the chores, I did the same. The storm rumbled on for another hour or so and then moved on.

A sunrise out in the big garden.

Friday after school, I ran errands up to Wellsville and back. It was warm and humid and I could tell there was more weather coming, so I went as quickly as I could. I bought chicken feed. I try to buy some every week in the late summer and fall instead of every other week so I have a good supply of it on hand as winter sets in. The drive into New York and back was beautiful. The roads are lined with goldenrod and in some places, patches of purple asters. On my way home, I saw a sign that said fresh apples for sale out by Yorks Corners. I drove out to the place. It is an Amish farm that I bought apples from last year. With more than thirty trees of my own, I always feel sad when I have to buy apples. But I’m also glad and grateful that someone had a good crop of them this year. I bought a bushel of Ginger Gold apples to make sauce with. The apples are not quite ripe, so I will be making sauce as they are ready over the next week or so. They also had one last bushel of peaches for sale and I bought half of it. They were very ripe and in need of immediate attention, so Miriam and I blanched them, pitted them, and cut them into chunks. Some went into the refrigerator and some into the freezer. Quite a few of them we ate directly. I have a problem when someone asks me what my favorite fruit is. I usually answer “apple” out of loyalty to my trees, but if you had asked me that while I was standing there eating a ripe peach, I would have answered “peach” without hesitation. What a marvelous fruit. I do have three peach trees in my orchard, but I just planted them this spring and they won’t bear any fruit for another four or five years, and then only in a good year when the weather cooperates. But it’s worth the wait and the risk for the chance of getting my own fruit.

Apples and peaches from the Amish.

Yesterday started out overcast, rainy, cool. I spent the morning making peach jam, which was a lovely thing to do on such a dreary day. The aroma of cooking peaches made breathing a delight. Just before chore time in the afternoon, the sky let loose and it poured rain. I went out on the porch to watch it and listen to it pounding on the roof. It went on for several hours.

Finished peach jam.

The Thayns decided to come up and spend a short weekend with us. They got here yesterday evening in time for dinner and Kurt and Julie joined us. So the house is full of energy, games, food, fun, and noise.

Fingernail and toenail polish time with Aunt Hannah.

Saturday night games.

This morning it was gloomy. The clouds were heavy, there was low fog. All of that gloom was alleviated a bit by the bustle and energy of a house full of people getting ready for church. Church went well. Now we are home and the house is full of the bustle and energy of everyone changing out of their church clothes plus lunch preparations. Kurt and Julie are coming in a minute to join us for lunch. They’re bringing the food – enchiladas, guacamole, and frijoles refritos. I heard a rumor that Stacey was going to make apple pie for our Sabbath evening treat. I doubt there will be Sabbath naps today – there’s too much energy running through the house. It might be gloomy outside, but inside it is bright with happiness.

Lunch today.