Harvest Finale

Our intentions for an extended fall garden have all but unraveled.  Most of our brassica seedlings were mown off by an interloping groundhog.  In protest, the survivors refused to grow taller than 2 inches.  The next wave of seeds empathized with their masticated comrades and simply didn't sprout.  Though our spring peas did fairly well, the fall peas wallowed in the soil and decided they preferred their subterranean posts better than the airy sunshine above.  We never did get the turnips, kale, or chard seeded…oops.  The faster summer flew by, the more distant our fall garden pursuits became.  What we expected to be a multi-species autumnal smorgasbord dwindled to a humble vegetable platter.  But I’m not complaining…

There’s never a perfect growing season.  I’m content to gauge the season by the eating:  Have I consumed a variety of tasty fresh veggies and fruits over the past few months?  Mmmhmm.   Do I have a bounty of tasty veggies and fruits put up for the coming months?  You betcha!  Then it’s been a great year!!  Granted, I have a list of things to improve upon for next year, but I’d be worried if I didn't have such a list at the end of each season. 

We’re still eating vine-ripened tomatoes, potted fresh herbs, and prolific green peppers…but not for long.  The first frosts of the season are expected soon.  My father-in-law dug sweet potatoes this week and my mother-in-law is feverishly putting the rest of the green tomatoes and peppers to use.  We, too, are scrambling to get pears and peppers into safer quarters. 

After a growing season of toil (though many hands have made it infinitely more palpable this year), I’m always ready for fall’s downshift.  Not too long from now it will be time to head inside for good, settling in to winter’s hibernation.  But, I’m getting ahead of myself; there are still many beautiful days of autumn left in front of me.  October has just now taken its seat on the throne.  I’m savoring the crisp air, the slanted glow of autumnal sunshine, the shorter days, and the longer evenings.  Potatoes and butternut and spaghetti squashes are huddled in boxes for cold storage.  Apples and pears are making their transfiguring leap from orchard to glass jar.  The garden plot itself grows less and less populated.  A quiet brown blanket will soon put the bed to rest; its bustling activity moving underground until spring.

As I contemplate this year’s ebbing harvest, I am satiated and grateful.  In moments like this I feel very wealthy indeed.  Yes, because of the laden freezers, crocks, and jars, but equally because of the annual opportunity to work with my hands, provide for myself, and produce abundant food and memories with my husband and family.  Autumn is like a dénouement – it brings contentment and closure to a good story.