Moving On and Taking Stock

Today was the first of those misty mornings when steam is rising from the local lakes and ponds and everyone notices the sun’s low trajectory.

There are tomatoes on the vine, a few final zucchini, and plenty of unripe peppers. And yes, I see you there watermelon. But I’m here to tell you– we’re moving on.

I noticed at church this Sunday that the folks talking about canning were using the past tense. They were reporting totals (30 quarts of tomatoes, even 40 quarts of tomatoes) or talking about the number of bags of corn they have in the freezer.

Moving on means roasting. It means turnips and potatoes and hopefully, if all goes well, some autumn beets. The winter squash will keep, but it’s time for the fall greens. And I have to get going on those Brussels sprouts, which will not keep long…

Tonight in the roasting pan I had that “We’ve got everything” melange: Brussels sprouts, onion, garlic, red and poblano peppers, cherry tomatoes, zucchini, and two little turnips I pulled so the rest could keep growing. At the end I threw in a handful of herbs. I resisted adding carrots and potatoes.

Fall also means the reappearance of the Sandhill cranes. I’m afraid the fauna did not fare as well as my flora this summer. One of the twins didn’t make it, and they are preparing to fly south as a family of three.

The honey bees also didn’t make it. Early on, one of the hives was infested by flies. A few weeks ago, the beekeepers removed the second hive when beetles got in and the bees didn’t fight them off. They are chalking it up to weak stock and will try again next year.

Next year this corn field at the front edge of our property will also get a make-over. We’re putting it in prairie, “CRP” land. I have mixed feelings– I would definitely have voted to keep it in agriculture. I like the way our dairy farmer tenant has kept it– digging in manure each fall. I’ll miss seeing it grow and the rumble and roar of the harvesting. But I know that I am not up to the task of farming it or even devoting myself to pasture and sheep.  Then again, a girl can dream. I still linger just a little too long over the ads for farming classes that come into my in-box.