“Is Glorious—um—a usual sort of name for wolves?” asked Summer timidly.
“Yes,” said the wolf. “My sister is Strong and my brother is Splendid. We call ourselves what we are, or wish to be, or could be again.”
Fall is in full swing, and damn, it’s glorious.
This was Thursday:
Today it’s overcast, by contrast, and fairly breezy.
You get that occasional wash of cool air, and then all the yellow leaves from the pin-oak and the hickories come drifting down around you. The wild grape has gone bright yellow and the paw-paw has shed all its leaves already. The sweet-gum is making up for being an obnoxious shedder of caltrops the rest of the year, and one of the other oaks is going burgundy. The ground is the color of a red fox. (One of which I saw trotting by the other day, and of course you can’t move for deer. Haven’t seen the wild turkeys yet this fall, but they’re probably out there somewhere.)
Days like this are just ridiculously glorious. “Crisp” was invented to describe this sort of weather. It’s nature’s equivalent of newly washed sheets. The air feels clean and–I don’t know, friendly, even to a gardener, who knows perfectly well that Nature is a mother.
We opened up all the windows until it got too cold. There is local cider in the fridge. I harvested the last onions for dinner tonight and the scarlet runner beans are drying on top of the toaster oven. (Not a big crop. You’re supposed to harvest them all year and eat them like string beans, but since I didn’t keep up with it, it’s just a couple of cups of dried beans now. But I’ve got enough to plant next year, and maybe we’ll get a nice side-dish out of it, at least.)
Tomorrow I’ll take down what’s left of the basil and make basil oil. Since there’s a very small crop this year—the nasturtiums got very out of control—I may try a lemon verbena oil and an oregano oil, since I’ve got plenty of that too.
My thanks to everybody’s who’s expressed concern about Hurricane Sandy—I appreciate it, but worry about the people farther north! The storm is currently tracking to miss us completely. (The Outer Banks may get whomped, mind you…) We’re slated for maybe a quarter-inch of rain and some gusty winds here, but odds are good it won’t even keep me from having coffee on the front steps in the morning.
I have two truckloads of cow manure to be delivered Monday or Tuesday, and then life will be glorious indeed.