It’s Monday. Mid-August. My backyard garden has peaked—at least that’s how I view it.
I’ve pulled out two beds of green bean plants and am waiting and watching for the last one to flower and produce. It might have been pulling out those spent plants and not replacing them with anything that caused a shift in my mind. The garden is far from finished; maybe it’s just me that’s sensing a seasonal shift.
There’s a bed full of beets I plan on pickling as soon as my kitchen tap is fixed. (No running water in the kitchen. Good times.) The lettuce is finally doing something. I could pick radishes, green onion, cucumber, and tomatoes and conjure a salad with little effort at all. Swiss chard is plentiful. Cornstalks are strong and tall. Plants grown from tiny seeds I planted back in the spring continue to grow and produce. The miracle of gardening continues to be evident right there in my backyard.
It’s warm here today—34C/93F warm and forecast for the rest of the week looks equally summer-like. Gerry elected to forgo a second hiking trip in B.C. and we’re counting down the days until we travel to get our Yorkie puppy. As such, we’re looking at the calendar and deciding what “must do” day trips to take in before we enter the season of puppy-hood.
I have not accomplished the summer writing goals I set for myself a few months ago, and I won’t. If anything, I’ve wrestled with how much time to devote to the thing I call “writing” going forward. Should I even still call myself a writer? Perhaps this season is more about supporting the work of other writers behind the scenes.
I spied a container of pumpkin-scented body lotion in the bottom drawer of my bathroom the other day. A wander around Winners last week (looking for dog toys) revealed a section of fall-like home decor. A pumpkin spice frappuccino would certainly ease the discomfort I feel in my throat today, but I’m sure they’re not available yet. That would be pushing it.
Meanwhile, there’s a zucchini, a pair of cucumbers, and an assortment of tomatoes on my kitchen counter from this morning’s harvest. I’m thinking about turning them into dinner in a couple of hours. (Did someone say zoodles?) I’m going to take my Kobo and a glass of ice water out to the deck to read for a while after I finish this post. (Here’s the book I’m currently engrossed in.) Those things say summer clear as anything.
We’re a long way from the end of summer and yet (close your eyes, daughter), I sense a shift. I feel it in the air. I hear it on the radio. (4% of the Saskatchewan harvest is already done). There’s a piece of me that’s ready to embrace it even as I tell myself to remain present in summer for as long as possible. Winter, here in Saskatchewan, is long after all. (Oops. Sorry for dropping the “w” word.)
Anyway, that’s the state of things here in Moose Jaw this afternoon. What’s happening in your part of the world?