Garden Gatherings From Treetops, Preparations in The Garden, The Home and The Heart for The Coming Winter

     “Spring forward, Fall backward” goes the old saying, and it felt wonderful to laze away the extra hour in bed this morning. My head told me I should use the extra hour to accomplish some of those things one puts off from day to day, but on glancing out the window it was such a gray day, trying hard to rain, and my heart said, better to stay in bed. There was a cool chill in the air upon getting up, and that is probably due to door being left open for the dogs to get out into the garden, which is fine during the summer, but November air brings with it a deepening chill, a dampness, and the door is finally closed on Summer.

     The sweet smell of burning leaves fills the air and the buzz of chain saws echoes across the valley. Grasses by the roadside take on a burnished gold, and chicory blossoms nod gaily to passing cars. This year’s chickens are just starting to lay, and there is nothing as wondrous as that first fresh brown egg, cradled softly in its bed of crisp golden straw. Our chickens presented us with six eggs, which isn’t too bad from 7 chickens, now the days are getting shorter.  I did let the ladies out, but they are finding their way through the meadow, up the hill and into the vegetable garden and although there really isn’t much left they can damage, they didn’t need to be encouraged to feed in that spot, so it must have given the neighbors a real treat to see an almost 60-year-old lady wielding a very large stick, chasing chickens helter skelter through the vegetable beds, back down the hill where they belong. In the canopy above our heads, squirrels chatter away, arguing over the choicest of pine cones that are dropping quite readily everywhere you turn.

     The rain has been holding off and the last three weeks have been sunny, and some parts of the garden are moist and others quite dry. I broke a lot of sweat trying to pull up the blackberry roots to make another long flower bed in the woodlot out back, but I foresee several days of heavy labor on that one. One cannot deny the beauty of the rose, and in the still of the grey autumn day, flowers are still blooming in the garden, and the “Double Delight” its creamy center outlined with ruby red, as if it had been quickly dipped into a ruby Port wine, lights up the grey day and permeates the air with its magnificent fruity scent. Together with a few salmon roses, scabiosa, and lemon colored dahlias, they form a bright bouquet for the desk in the office.