Good Riddance to August

For all my going on and on about longing for an endless summer, when I'm being honest with myself, I know that it isn't really true. Sometimes I tell myself that I could live happily somewhere tropical, some island where I could grow bananas and pineapples and coconuts and plumeria, where it was always in the 80s, but in the end, I don't think I would. I am, at heart, a temperate climate person. I love spring, summer, and fall, and even a bit of winter. What I would really like is to reapportion their duration, make spring, summer, and fall longer, and keep winter to the required minimum, but that's beyond my control. So I take whatever nature gives me and complain about it when it doesn't do what I want and give thanks for the times when it does. About this time of year I start to admit to myself that I need a time to rest and so does the garden. So am I looking forward to winter? Well, maybe with some reluctance. If only it would behave and wait until December 21st to start and depart on March 21st, and only drop to just below 32° a few times. And although I wouldn't live in a tropical place permanently, I'll gladly visit one during the winter for a few weeks, or months. Maybe from January 2nd to the end of February.

The weather was cool all week – cool as in temperature, not as in "Woah, cool man." It definitely wasn't that kind of cool. We barely hit 70° all week. And the nights were downright cold, dropping into the low 40s and even the 30s. I had to wear my old barn coat to do the morning chores. Several mornings, I even turned on the electric heater by my desk to warm my hands and feet after coming in from my walk. Cool weather is not good for the heat loving things in the garden. I was in worry mode all week as I scanned all those green tomatoes, peppers, and pumpkins, and for good reason it turns out.

My week began with doctor's appointments on Monday and Tuesday. Early Monday morning I went to the acupuncturist. It was actually a nice way to start the day and the week. I enjoy my acupuncture sessions. I just wish they weren't an hour away. On my way there, I stopped at the feed store and bought chicken and pig feed. On my way home I took a longer route and went by way of Wellsville so I could return books to the library and pick up a few new ones. The sky was lowering as I was driving around and it rained a little in New York State, but it was dry when I got home. I was disappointed. Later, while I was down at the barn doing the afternoon chores, the rain finally arrived and it poured for a while. It seems to happen that way a lot. I waited in the chicken coop for it to let up a little before making a dash for the house. It rained off and on for the rest of the day.

I love it when the rain barrel is full!

We've had a problem with chipmunks moving into the woodshed. They are attracted by the buckets of sunflower seeds I keep there to fill the bird feeders. Out of frustration, several weeks ago I took down the birdfeeders and moved the buckets down to the barn. Without easy access to the seeds, the chipmunks went away. But so did the birds. On Monday, I decided enough was enough. I missed watching the birds. I brought the buckets back, filled up the feeders, and hung them in their accustomed places. Then I watched to see how long it would take for the birds to return – and the chipmunks. I know a lot of people think chipmunks are cute, and they are when they're in wildlife documentaries or out in the woods. But when they decided to move in with you, it's a different story. Remember those old Chip and Dale cartoons where they trash Donald Duck's house? We've actually had them build nests in our boxes of Christmas decorations. So it might seem merciless, but I set traps. Even as I was setting the traps, there was already a chipmunk in the woodshed. It took them just three hours to return, but none have gotten caught in a trap so far. The birds still haven't come back.

Monday evening the Fosters came for dinner, we had Monday Mexican, and afterward we helped them work on their house next door. If you recall, they bought the property next to us from the Shilligs and  in a few months they are hoping to move into the old house (really old – it was built during the Civil War). The house needs extensive work to make it livable. It was empty for seven years before the Shilligs bought it. After the Shilligs bought it, we've used it mostly to store things. It needs a new kitchen and bathroom and general remodeling. Sarah and Tosh have torn out a lot of stuff – ceilings, walls, carpet, plumbing. We help them as much as we can. At the end of the day, we had a bonfire made of all the old woodwork we'd removed.

Hannah and I at the bonfire.

Tuesday's doctor's appointment was with my chiropractor to go over the results of the MRI that I had a few weeks ago. I went to this appointment with some trepidation, not knowing what to expect. After all these months of doing all the things that are supposed to help and heal me, I wanted some good news. I guess finding out that things are stable and haven't gotten any worse is good news. That's what he said, stable, not worse, that's good. These things don't just disappear suddenly. Keeping conditions stable means the things I'm doing are preventing any worsening. So I'll keep on doing what I'm doing.

While at the feed store way back in June, on a whim, I bought some packets of sunflower seeds. They were different varieties. I didn't pay much attention to what they were. It was a pure impulse purchase. I planted them randomly in the row with the dahlias out in the big garden. They've turned out to be gorgeous. There are the usual yellow ones, but also some streaked with darker orange and red, and a few that are such a dark red, they almost look black. Pretty good results for an unplanned planting. They are much more impressive than the dahlias that I have to fuss over.

A sampler of some of my sunflowers.

It was 37° just before dawn on Wednesday, the first in a series of cold nights. That sent a shiver through me physically and mentally. It was far too close to freezing. The house was chilly. To warm it, and me, I spent the morning canning relish. It was nice working in the steamy kitchen. This was our second and final batch of the season. Most years we make four or more batches, but the cucumbers are done already. The vines are shriveling up. 

Rapidly expiring cucumber vines.

There was a relish making incident that I hesitate to mention because it reflects poorly on me, but I will anyway. I had two colanders of raw mash draining in the sink, ready to go into the pot to be cooked before canning it. I went to transfer the mash and one of the colanders slipped in my hands and half the mash spilled down the counter front, across the floor, and down my left pant leg. I might have uttered a bad word. There were no further incidents and I ended up canning 12 pints of relish.

The finished relish.

The recipe in our family cookbook, given to me by my neighbor Brownie Stilson many years ago.

I have a pretty big collection of vinyl records and CDs, and a stereo system to play them on, but it has all been stashed in a corner of the work room upstairs for several years. I decided that I missed listening to my records, so on Wednesday afternoon I moved it all, stereo, records, and CDs downstairs to a corner of the music room. It seemed like the appropriate place, being a music room. When I was done, I wondered why I hadn't done it a long time ago. Even though I have a lot of my classical music in the form of MP3 files that I can listen to on my computer, some of it I don't. I have some great performances on vinyl pressings. I've always felt that there is a quality to vinyl that digital music lacks. Vinyl sounds more warm and alive to me. My record collection is diverse and includes many genres. I inherited some of my parents' records. Back in the 80s, before CDs became a thing, I used to frequent the record stores and I collected a good amount of classical music on vinyl.  I also worked for a record company, KM Records, in Burbank, Californian, in the 80s and acquired some very nice vinyl pressings. I'm glad I can listen to them again. The first disc I put on the phonograph that afternoon was the oldest one I have, Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto in E minor, with Jascha Heifitz and the London Philharmonic, a Christmas gift from my parents in 1971. It's scratchy, but I love it. It's been played hundreds of times.

My music corner.

During the night between Wednesday and Thursday, I got up several times to check the temperature. It was 44° when I went to bed. At 2:00 a.m. it was 36°, still safe from frost, but just barely. I said a prayer and went back to bed. At 4:00 a.m. it hadn't changed. I said another prayer because the sky was crystal clear and the temperature often falls just before sunrise. When I got up at 5:30 a.m., my usual time, it was 37°. The temperature was rising again. I said a prayer of thanks, showered, dressed, and waited for it to get light before going out to check and make sure there hadn't been frost. As I went down the back porch stairs, the perfume of the night-blooming jasmine greeted me. That was a good sign. It is sensitive to frost and it looked fine and smelled amazing. The garden near the house was drenched with dew, but it's the parts further out in the big garden that are most vulnerable. I walked out as far as the dahlias, also frost sensitive, and they were fine. We survived another cold night.

The night-blooming jasmine.

Because the nights have been so cold, I thought it best to move my houseplants that were enjoying the summer outdoors, indoors. I usually don't do that until sometime in mid September, but I didn't want to risk them being damaged. I brought in the orchids from the front porch and the succulents from the back porch and set them on their shelves in the music room. 

Houseplants back indoors again.

After the day warmed a little, I went out to work. As a pointless protest against the weather, I refused to wear a jacket because I shouldn't have to in August. There was a chilly wind blowing, so every time the sun went behind a cloud it made me shiver, but I persisted. I picked a basket of tomatoes to turn into sauce. I picked a bowl of raspberries. I inspected the orchard and sampled a few apples to see how they are coming along. I relocated the trail cam in the orchard and aimed it toward the apple trees that are currently dropping fruit. That's where the deer gather and I want to keep an eye on them. After that, I did some weeding in the flowerbeds. Last of all, I took a walk through the property and made note of all the things I want to do when fall comes – what to move, what to remove. There is a lot to do.

The basket of tomatoes.

Fingers stained from picking raspberries.

The chestnut crab apples are almost ready. They are one of my favorites, crisp and sweet.

We have a buck visiting now in addition to the three does.

Miriam and Hannah left on Friday evening to attend a Young Single Adult Conference at the church camp at Seneca Lake. They'll be back sometime tonight. So Stacey and I were here, just the two of us, for the weekend. It was a quiet weekend. Even with Miriam and Hannah here, it would have been a quiet weekend. It's usually quiet here.

Friday evening we went to the movies. This year is the 50th anniversary of the release of Jaws and in honor of that, they released it again for a limited time to the big screen. Stacey, who helps select the movies to be shown in our local theater, arranged for it to play at the Coudersport this weekend. I remember going to see Jaws back in 1975. I was 17. I went with my friends to the Yorktown Cinema in Yorktown, Illinois. We had to wait in line to buy tickets. I remember that the ticket cost $2.00, which, if I remember correctly, was the first time I paid that much to see a movie. Jaws is considered to be the very first summer blockbuster movie. Summertime was always a downtime for theaters. Jaws changed that and set a new trend. It was the first movie to earn $100 million dollars at the box office. It was the second collaboration in what would become the greatest pairing in cinema history with Stephen Spielberg directing and a soundtrack by John Williams (the first was Sugarland Express in 1974). Williams' music makes the film for me with its ominous tone and jumpy thrills. Jaws was terrifying back then. It still is. That scene with the head in the sunken boat still makes me jump even though I know it's coming. Jaws is the main reason I never like to swim in the ocean to this day.

At the movies.

It was overcast and cool all day on Friday and as night came on, the sky cleared. That's the worst possible scenario for frost. And, if there is even a slight chance for frost anywhere, it will happen here. Sure enough, the weather forecasters issued a frost advisory for Potter and McKean counties. When we got home from the movie, Stacey, Kurt, and I went out and covered what we could of the most vulnerable plants – tomatoes, peppers, and basil. When I went to bed, the sky was sparkling with stars and it was 40°. I said a prayer and turned out the light.

See those two blue counties in Pennsylvania? The one on the right is Potter County.

I woke up at 4:00 a.m. to check the temperature. It was 31°. There was frost. In the morning, I waited until the sun was up and it had warmed to 40° before I went out to assess the situation. I thought there was no damage, but as the day grew warmer, I saw that there was. At first it looked like the pumpkins and zucchini in my vegetable garden just got nipped a bit, but as the day went on, I could see that they had really taken a hit and would probably not recover. Some of the tomatoes and peppers in my garden and in the big garden were damaged. Still, it could have been much worse.

My vegetable garden covered for frost.

 

Out in the big garden.

The demise of the pumpkin vines.

Saturday was a work day. Stacey worked indoors, sanding the drywall in the living room, a dusty, dirty job. Then she did a second coat of mud. Sarah came by and helped her for a while. I worked outdoors. I cleaned the upper part of the barn  – also dusty and dirty. I did some mowing to get fallen leaves up off the lawn. I moved firewood from the pavilion onto the back porch. I helped Kurt gather up the last of the onions. Sarah and Tosh were working in their house next door and they came out for a while and we all stood in the big garden and talked about plans for the future, how to make the big garden more efficient, what we want to plant next year. I knew the basil wouldn't last through another cold night, so I cut it all and sent it home with Sarah to be made into pesto and freeze dried. I brought all the pumpkins onto the back porch. Some are for eating and I will process them soon. The others are intended for jack o' lanterns, if I can get them to last that long without rotting.

Stacey mudding drywall.

The last load of onions.

The end of the basil.

Pumpkins on the back porch.

Yesterday was Kurt's birthday. We gathered on the Shillig's back porch in the evening for his special donut cake and his favorite rocky road ice cream. As evening came on, it began to cool off quickly. Stacey, Kurt, and I went out and covered the tomatoes and peppers again. Nothing else was worth the effort.

Kurt blowing out his birthday candle.

It was 32° this morning, right at freezing. There was a light frost. Across the road there was heavy fog hanging over the beaver pond. It was pretty, but in a cold way. The chickens were reluctant to leave the coop. I had to coax them out for their morning scratch. We had to remove the covers from the garden before we left for church so the sun wouldn't bake the plants. We might be done with frost now for a while. I hope so.

Church was good. The first counselor in our stake presidency was there and he spoke. For our fifth Sunday second hour, we practiced more hymns from the upcoming new hymnal. It's a beautiful late summer day and drive to and from Wellsville was lovely. Lunch will soon be ready. My Sabbath nap already beckons.

Tomorrow is Labor Day. When I was in high school, our ward in Naperville held a Last Fling Chicken Barbeque and Corn on the Cob Dinner and Bake Sale on Labor Day every year. It was a big affair, a fundraiser for the ward budget. The public was invited. There were tables set up in the parking lot at the chapel. I have happy memories of being there, helping to serve, and enjoying the food. Our celebration here will be pretty low key, a cookout at Shillig's at 3:00 p.m. The food will be excellent, it always is. I never really know what we are celebrating on Labor Day. I've never been very invested in the labor movement and unions and all that. I don't think most people celebrate the day for that reason. I think for most it's just the last holiday of the summer. That makes it a sad celebration for me. But then, September is a sad sort of month anyway as we transition from summer into fall. It doesn't have the full beauty of either season.

A visitor to the orchard last night. I think she knows where the camera is.

And so we bid farewell to August. Looking back, it was a good month in some ways and bad in others. We had some heat, but not enough of it. We had way too much cold. We had fun times with visiting family earlier in the month. We started the main harvest season. It was too dry for most of the month. And as a parting shot, it hit us with early frost. And now it's done. Good riddance. September is upon us and summer will retreat even faster as autumn advances. The forecasters are saying the heat will come back and September will be warmer than usual, but I don't believe it. We'll see. Good Sabbath.