9.17.23
It is a little after half past four in the morning. Pitch black outside except for the lingering stars and Venus shining brightly. Maybe if I stood outside a while longer, I would be able to pick out Mercury. We were woken up this morning, Darrell briefly and me for the day, by the clanking of antlers under the deck. We have a buck who seems to not just be content with munching on our grape vine leaves or sampling the rose bush or phlox but delights in eating the weeds that grow under our deck. Particularly the ones by our bedroom window! These spindly, sun starved plants must be a delicacy to him. He was here last year too. Well actually, there were a couple of bucks making the rounds around the house last year but from the sounds of it there is only one this year. We hear his antlers and wake, nudging each other yet not saying a word, knowing it is just the buck having his morning breakfast.
Darrell falls back to sleep, and I lay there for a while, listening. The crickets are chirping away and as always, I briefly think about the equation for telling the temperature outside by counting the number of chirps in 15 seconds and adding 40. Deciding it is too early in the morning for sums I think to myself that there are enough chirps to make it near 50 degrees. Swinging my legs out of bed I grab my fluffies and head quietly into the kitchen. Peeking at the outside thermometer as I put the kettle on for my first cup of tea, I see that I – and Mr. Cricket – was close. It is 55 degrees outside.
This year, as September rolled around, there was a definite tang in the air even if temperatures did soar back up in the high 90 degree range this week. The Redwing Blackbirds once again have appeared, first a small flock of three or four then squadrons of them zooming in to take aim at the corn patch, filling their bellies before their migration begins. At first, I have to admit I resent these marauding birds and their annual appearance just when our corn is ripe, but then again, they galvanize us to action. We head to the garden. Darrell begins picking the full, ripe cobs filling tubs to the brim. Hauling them out of the garden we find a shady spot and as he deftly peals the husks off, I strip the golden kernels from the cob in preparation for preserving. The birds are welcome to what is left, and it is even entertaining to sit on the front porch in the mornings, watching them swoop down in a well-organized manner to feast on the remaining over ripe cobs.
Now that we are past the middle of September, the autumn equinox is quickly approaching. That time when daylight and dark are in harmonic balance, each of equal length. It is more than a signaling of the beginning of autumn, it awakens in us the urge to make sure we are prepared for winter. The satisfaction of seeing the hay bales stacked in the barn, ready for winter feeding. The apples and pears ripening on the tree limbs, the woodsheds filled to the brim, the tomatoes ripening, the Brussel sprouts standing tall and the cabbages ready for the sauerkraut tub. Potatoes will soon need to be dug and set out to dry before being stored in their straw filled boxes in our root cellar. The onion crop was lovely this year. Plaits of onions hang from the rafters of our little lean to off the side deck, giving them a chance to dry in the afternoon breeze before heading to hang in the root cellar. Yes, there is something rewarding about this time of year and that feeling as the days shorten, knowing you are prepared for whatever Mother Nature and Old Man Winter may throw our way.
It is also the time of year when I have to start thinking about the coming holidays. Yes, Christmas and the myriad of bazaars that will begin from next month onwards. For me that means soaping season is in full swing! Since homemade soap needs time to sit and age, one has to think well ahead as one plans for the upcoming holiday season. I never thought I would ever be the sort of person who started thinking about Christmas before September waned! Yet here I am, making soaps, lotions and other odds and ends, planning what markets and bazaars I will attend. On top of that, as soon as the weather cools down a tad more I will be in Christmas cake baking mode.
Ah! The smell of fruit cake in the cooker followed by the sight of all those cakes, from small to large, sitting on the cooling racks, warms your heart! Once cooled, they receive their first dousing of sherry before being wrapped up tight and set on the aging shelf in the pantry, many marked with the names of their future recipients! I still have one small wedge of cake left in my cake tin in the pantry from last year’s batch and I have to admit, the longer it ages the finer it becomes! I always make a big cake for us which serves to tide us over until the following Christmas when a new cake fills the cake tin.
Now that the days are starting to cool down, well at least that is the promise of the weatherman, butchering season begins, and a steer will soon be residing in the cooler. It will seem odd not having pigs hanging in the cooler this autumn, they will not be ready until late winter or early spring. We are slowing down. Well, I am slowing down, and Darrell thinks that is a good thing! Sometimes I think about all the things that need to be done, I even think about making a list as that is what I used to do. Then I remind myself that what does not get done today will always be there for tomorrow. Glancing out the window to my right, the sky has changed from inky darkness to a greyish blue tinged with pink on the horizon. Soon the sun will rise, and a new day will begin.
As I get up to fix my second cup of tea, I step out on the front porch and look up to the heavens. The stars are gone, but there alone in the early morning sky, Venus twinkles down at me. I stand for a minute, looking across the fields to where the cows are starting to head from their beds under the trees, out into the open to graze. A doe and her fawns browse in the milk cow’s field. The buck has long since wandered off, seeking a good place to bed down for the day. The roosters cease their morning crowing for a minute and a deep peace falls around me. “What a good day it will be,” I say to myself. “How Blessed I am.”