September Gold

One of the hardest things about early September is having to move back inside for hours on end. We all feel it; even the cat is more inclined to sprawl in the sun, soaking up the dry heat before the long damp season begins.

It is the golden season. The light is a clear, liquid gold, pouring over the landscape. Everything turns golden—the fields, the leaves, the crops, the flowers, all gather in this light and reflect it back. In my garden, small pumpkins emerge from the tangle of green leaves—there are eight?! I had only counted five all summer long. Three were hidden. Sungold tomato vines sprawl over the others, small golden suns everywhere. We eat them constantly. The goldenrod is blooming and every pollinator from miles around is collecting on it, so it hums.   My fall crops are growing madly; they are in the brightest bed. Along the fence, one volunteer pumpkin vines is making a final run for it; it has grown three feet in the last two weeks and has a tiny fruit hanging from it. We will see if anything comes of it.

Harvest is everywhere. Last summer vegetables compete with the early squashes in the Farmer’s Market. All sorts of fruits spill over, all ready to be processed for winter. We bring in the potatoes and onions, dried beans and corn. The time of reckoning…what went well? What did not? It’s serious for us, home gardeners, far more serious for the local farmers. These six weeks between Lammastide and the Fall equinox determine how well we will eat this winter. Soon, we will break out the wool socks, start the wood stove, consider baked beans for dinner. Until then, though, I am stretching my bare feet towards the sun, holding onto these golden days as long as possible.