Sandhill Cranes at our local wildlife refuge, photo by dave
I love this time of year, but my joy comes with a tinge of bittersweet. For the first time in months it actually gets dark at night, the birds are on the move and the harvest is booming. However, every morning it is a bit cooler and I keep waiting for the frost to claim my snap peas and bring the wild cranberries to sweetness. I have been up to my elbows (quite literally) in preserving my harvest for winter: blanching vibrant carrots, hearty kale, chard and broccoli. Brightly colored jars are lined up on my counter of blueberry/apple jam, pickled carrots, brandied nectarines (a bonus score of a 20lbs box of organic nectarines from Washington has kept me busy coming with creative ways to preserve them), and my hands and cutting board stained with the beets I can't seem to eat enough of. As I squirrel away our packages of fruit, veggies and salmon into the freezer I know that in the middle of the winter it will bring me such joy to pull out these gifts of summer.
Autumn is running through my veins, with the calls of the thousands of cranes migrating over and the chill on the air, every sunny day is a gift. So although my presence here has been sparse, be assured that I am busy eating, listening and experiencing every last day of my summer. I will return soon with clean hands and new inspiration.