AUTUMN COMES TO GILBERT

 

It’s October – a delightful time of year in the Pacific Inland Northwest. Mornings and evenings are cool, but afternoons have been unseasonably warm. I’m comfortable in warmer pajamas, but it’s too soon for sweatshirts and warm-ups. I see it could well freeze at the farm early in the week and come close to it in town. I also see that by next weekend the highs could be in the 70s again.

The autumn plague of blue aphids has begun. They’re harmless, I guess. Just inconvenient. And they love our purple ash tree, so we’re part of the problem.

I’ve already set out my Halloween displays, and I even made a pillow top from a favorite Halloween sweatshirt. I loved that shirt the moment I saw it at Kmart all those years ago, hanging all by itself at the end of a rack. I bought it and enjoyed wearing it, but it got old and the sleeves were a little short, so I retired it with intent to repurpose it as a pillow. It happened this year, and I count it as another finished project.

Mike and I spent this last week at the farm. I made a last batch of elderberry jelly (5 jelly jars), and while I had the canning kettle out, I cooked a batch of green tomato mincemeat (4 pints). Mike mowed the lawn, hopefully for the last time this year. We don’t water here, and usually the grass has gone dormant before now.

Mike rode his bike a couple of times, and while he did, Bess and I hiked the planted fields. Next year’s crop is canola, and it’s already coming up. It’s a bit disappointing for us. The game birds seem to prefer the wheat. The bright yellow fields will be gorgeous when the canola blooms in the spring, but afterwards, it grows tall and obscures our views. But – the land is leased and it’s not up to us.

Walking the fields is no easy feat, now that the soil is loose and furrowed, but I enjoyed getting out on my own and taking pictures. Bess was gracious about watching and waiting for me, but as I approached her on our last hike behind the house, she looked me in the eye, turned around, and marched back across the field. She was resting on the porch when I got home. Apparently she wasn’t up for the hike. KW