Bit of a chill out there tonight. The season is in a state of change, the landscape looks weary.
There's a big full moon hanging in the southern sky, pearly bright against indigo blackness. I didn't stay out long enough to tune my eyes into stars. That's a treat I'll save for later - I'll open the bedroom window and look out into the blackness, suck in the freshness of the night, wonder what's creeping and crawling, mewing and squeaking. Above, if the sky is clear, will be the greatest show on earth - the circling planets winging on their way. ('On earth' is not strictly true - but you get my drift.) Sometimes there will be a shooting star. I feel excitement but also regret at this planetary demise. I will wish upon this falling star.
Today has been a day of putting the vegetable garden to bed for the winter, tidying and mulching. A day with a golden sunrise and rosy sunset. There are plenty of berries in the hedgerows and the little trees in our new orchard are hung about with apples. It's a fruitful autumn - a sign, I always think, of an earlier mild spring and not necessarily a predictor of a bad winter to come. As I haul out old roots and weeds then fork on something well-rotted, I muse that it only seems brief moments ago that I drew shallow drills in the warming spring soil and sprinkled seed with hopes for a bumper harvest.
For us, here at the end of the Long Mountain, gardening hasn't been terribly rewarding this year. But with the optimism that keeps growers everywhere growing we note the changing season and turn to our seed catalogues and begin planning what will go where, next year.
2008 will be the year I grow a swede bigger than a tennis ball - and oh! I've just remembered, 2008 will be the year when we can harvest our first asparagus. Hurrah! Bring on the Hollandaise, shaved Parmesan and melted butter.......