Transition to Fall

I am in the process of swapping out the window boxes and flower pots in the front of the house for fall.  I'm pulling out the nasturtiums and planting mums, which is always a little bittersweet.  The summer annuals are usually starting to look a little ragged by this time of year, so there is something invigorating about digging in the dirt to pot up some fresh flowers, but at the same time, the mums mean one thing: the days of digging in the dirt are numbered.

We are now firmly in the "in between" time.  We're still enjoying beautiful, warm, sunny days, but it's hard not to notice how quickly the daylight slips away (or how long it takes to reappear).  There's still an abundant harvest coming from the garden, but my new evening routine now includes obsessively checking the hourly weather forecast and agonizing over whether or not to cover the tomatoes when the forecasted low is even a degree or two below 40.   We no longer need to run the AC, but it's too soon to turn the heat on, so we regulate the temperature in the house with an delicate balance of knowing just when to open and close the windows, and when to pull out the canner or throw a loaf of zucchini bread in the oven.  This year's garden isn't finished yet, but I have to start thinking about next year's garden, at least a little bit, to decide where to plant the garlic in a few weeks.    

I think the transitions and changes that fall requires of us are a good thing.  There's just enough agitation to shake up what has become routine and complacent, to deepen a sense of appreciation for the here and now, and build up anticipation for what is yet to be.  Happy fall, everyone! 

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