Friends. Food. Warm fire. Funny stories. Burden-sharing. Honesty. Love. Receiving advice. Coffee at midnight. Marshmallows and chocolate. Stars in a clear sky. Chill in the air. Staying up really, really late. Uncommonly amazing women of all ages with common hearts (I’m the only one of this group regularly receiving AARP-pooey mail, though, so maybe my heart isn’t in as good of shape?).
Everyone should find some life-giving friendships.
I have grown the most gorgeous Poblano (Ancho) Chiles this year. I neeeeeded Chile Rellenos for dinner, but it was late and I hadn’t roasted the peppers and removed the blistered skin or prepared homemade green chile with which to smother them. I hadn’t found the perfect batter recipe, delicate and crispy, but strong enough to hold the gooey, hot, cheesy filling. Ill-prepared, yes. But more determined than ever, yes! yes! yes!
It is a cheat, but egg roll wrappers are egg-based much like relleno batter and even Italian pasta. And it works. And it is good. And I have lots more Poblanos, thank-You, Jesus!
No picture: It was so good I ate them without remembering to take a picture. Too bad.
“But now in September the garden has cooled, and with it my possessiveness. The sun warms my back instead of beating on my head … The harvest has dwindled, and I have grown apart from the intense midsummer relationship that brought it on.”
– Robert Finch
Pearl has beautifully cleaned her garden and cleared it away. My cousins in the midwest, I have heard, have done the same. But I always struggle to let go, to actually let summer pass into fall.
Early last week I thought the zucchini looked weak and perhaps were nearly “over,” so I watered them once more, gathering an arm-load of fruit, planning to uproot and end their time over the weekend. The very next day, however, they were alive again with large yellow blooms, shouting their worth and prolonging their stay.
But these cold days and cold, cold nights are going to do all the tender plants in. Ultimately many of the flowers, including the petunias and nicotiana and zinnias, will make it through this frigid spell and will shine like stars in the universe in October as Monarch butterflies dance around them, captivating my fancy while I should be doing something productive. And if I cover my tomatoes and peppers, which, of course, I will, they will suffer some, but keep producing – almost until Thanksgiving, the Lord willing and I remember to pay special attention.
But the cucumbers, the zucchini and the spaghetti squash will likely not make it past this week. Their tender leaves are taking a hit that will be irrepairable. I have already pulled most of the green beans.
But it is hard to let them go. It is difficult to watch the yard begin to retreat into its winter-ready clothes where once it danced merrily in dazzling color and sizzling heat. It’s hard to hear the sound of dry, rustling leaves where children once splashed in water to the frog, toad and cricket’s song of the castinets.
Today I brought in 2 armfuls of baby zucchini, lemon and English cukes and some other variety of cucumber. I ate a couple of small beans right there amidst the soil and fading green. I grabbed some huge, very happy-looking peppers (where a fridge full of their colorful cousins await being used), and I grabbed the reddish tomatoes, which are too soft inside to expose to such cold, but will continue their ripening on the counter and be delectable in the next 2-3 days.
This is the September garden. It dwindles.
I will miss the summer. I will miss the long days and short nights and profuse blooms and iced tea while I swing on the patio. I will miss swimsuits and beach towels all. over. the. yard! And the sound of kids playing with dirt and rocks and dangerous yard tools when there are plenty of good toys to be had.
But just in case I was going to hang on too tightly, just in case I was going to pretend that summer was not over in spite of the calendar saying it is so this 22nd day of September (the Autumnal Equinox), the weather has forced me to face reality and it is freaking cold! What on earth?!
So, that’s it. Summer is over. The fall has descended upon me like a heavy, wet, soaked 1960’s green canvas camping tent. So, I shall drink myself into beautiful oblivion with the beverage I once heard called “liquid pie.” Yes, that smooth, creamy, cinnamony Pumpkin Spice Latte from Starbucks. This shall be my reward for a summer which has left me.
Press close, bare-bosomed Night! Press close, magnetic,
nourishing Night!
Night of south winds! Night of the large, few stars!
Still, nodding Night! Mad, naked, Summer Night!
~Walt Whitman
Joe’s wife, Robin with my dad; hanging on “Moslander Mountain”
Dawn and Dan share family secrets
“I took you all in during our time spent together. Kinda like a wonderful meal! I feel full, but want to take in some more. Good memories, but missing everyone.”
Cousins Rocky and Corbin having fun at the Phipps farm
Riding horses at the farm.
Brothers telling fish stories, no doubt
Me with little sister Tami and her husband, Gerron; Jordan and Rocky-best cousins forever!
“In every conceiveable manner, the family is link to our past, bridge to our future.” Alex Haley
Whom I have also sometimes (with great affection) called “Mammogram” and “Pap Smear.” Not sure how they feel about that! This is the result of these two people.
Related posts:
Another Ode to Summer, for I am not yet ready to acknowledge an autumn which does not truly begin until the September Equinox, on the 22nd day of this month (days away, yet). Yes, school is back in session. Yes, the nights are cooler, some mornings even crisp. And I have even enjoyed a Pumpkin Spice Latte from Starbucks or two. But I must sing of my love for the summer until the last verse fades softly…
“Summer is the time when one sheds one’s tensions with one’s clothes, and the right kind of day is jeweled balm for the battered spirit. A few of those days and you can become drunk with the belief that all’s right with the world.” ~Ada Louise Huxtable
A million shades of blue.
The ferry carried us from the beautifully-appointed resort to the sandy seashore.
Tredessa read Robert Liparulo the entire trip. We are fans.
Little creatures delighted us.
Balmy. Breezy. The ocean. Huge pools of clear, barely-cool water.
Beautiful sunsets, lovely evenings. Suntans.
The flora and fauna drip fulsomely from nooks and crannies without a care in the world, and are the same plants WalMart sells us for our houses. Yet we must labor mindfully to keep them alive.
Luke is a bigger ham than Tredessa.
Why can’t I have a sandy beach 5 minutes from home? Why must I travel so far for this one much-desired amenity?
Related posts:
Another Ode to Summer, for I shan’t acknowledge an autumn which does not truly begin until the September Equinox, on the 22nd day of this month. Yes, school is back in session. Yes, the nights are cooler, some mornings even crisp. But I must sing of my love for the summer until the last verse fades softly…
“I walk without flinching through the burning cathedral of the summer. My bank of wild grass is majestic and full of music. It is a fire that solitude presses against my lips.” ~Violette Leduc, Mad in Pursuit
Baby pepper plants taking over where lettuces and radishes have been as spring turns into summer.
Peppery, edible Nasturtiums.
July 15th was the first red tomato day. They have been steady ever since. Snapdragons grow in odd spaces among the rocks and borders.
Steady, brilliant potentilla blooms yellow all summer long. Hollyhocks rule the world.
As many unplanned flowers grow here as the ones I actually placed. Seeds from year’s past in re-used pots shout “surprise” throughout the long, summer days.
The self-seeded and stately sunflowers, heliotropers all, each have their own “face,” their own look and personality. This is the Crowned Prince, not the flashiest or most obvious, but the smartest among them all. He observes everything happening in the garden, including my bungling attempts at transcendence in soil, and wisely discerns how to bring healing and balance, extending grace where needed, though undeserved.
“Awake, north wind, and come, south wind! Blow on my garden, that its’ fragrance may spread abroad. Let my lover come into his garden and taste its choice fruits.” Song of Solomon 4.16
And now? I dine on fresh produce and cut little bundles of flowers and enjoy the reward of dirt under my nails, and pulling weeds and nurturing seedlings and digging holes and watering young plants and hauling manure and mixing plant food concoctions and enduring the heat of the day and being attacked by mosquitoes and cussed out by mama spiders and pricked by thorns and enthralled by the scent of five types of basil and beguiled by the perfume as I caress the thuriferous leaves of the rosemary in passing. I am compensated so far beyond any effort I have invested. In the garden is food for my soul.
Ode to Summer, for I simply will not acknowledge an autumn which does not truly begin until the Autumnal Equinox, on the 22nd day of this month sometime in the late afternoon. Yes, school is back in session. Yes, the nights are cooler, some mornings even crisp. But I must sing of my love for the summer until the last verse fades softly, for it is hard to bear the end…
“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass on a summer day listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is hardly a waste of time.” ~John Lubbock
Gavin toyed with an Edward-do, a la Twilight (the movie), before settling on a mop-top later in the summer. He is such a sweet, freckle-faced kid. He turned me into Nonna 6 years ago this summer. This summer we went to the nursery together and I helped him put together his very first, very own planters of flowers and tomatoes (a passion we share). He changed my life forever.
My little inquisitive, curious, talkative, adventurer, Hunter, will be 5 soon. He questions everything, knows something about all topics and is growing like a weed. This was the summer I had to make a lot of deals with him to get photographs. If I take one of him, he gets to take one of me. He is the perfect mix of both his mommy and his daddy and he always asks me, “Did you miss me while I was gone, Nonna? Are you so glad to see me again?” I so did and I so am.
I call Guini my flower girl. She loves beautiful blooms and picks them every chance she gets. She likes to play “flower shop” when she comes to visit. She is quiet, but decided, mysterious and cuddly – but you have to be ready to drop everything for the magic moment, for it can be fleeting. We hang out, she’s my girl.
This was the summer of Gemma in the quinitessential yellow sundress. It matches her vibrancy and her spirit. I wanted one just like it! She is hilarious and she is two. She is very good at it. But she is also very helpful. She sunscreened herself before outings, or during “naptimes” or whenever she could – a lot! She’s my little “sweet petite,” who cannot keep her jeans up since she started wearing big-girl undies!
Averi-baby is on the run. All. the. time. Except when it is time to eat. She and I share that hobby! From certain angles, I feel like it’s the early 80’s and I’m chasing Tredessa again. She loves to wear (and break) my reading glasses and when mommy and daddy go somewhere, she asks me, “Where’s mama? Where’s Rocky?” Every now and then while we are running around the backyard together, she will stop and tell me the most hilarious story and uproariously laugh at her own joke. It cracks me up.
Related post: Scenes from a Good Summer ~ Heaven Fest
I almost missed it, then I had no idea what the heck it was. There, among the leaves, barely visible was this 13 or 14-inch long something-or-another. It was situated sort of between the lemon cukes (small, pale yellow and round, with defined ridges) and the English cucumbers (dark green, very straight variety), but also near the zucchini and yellow straight-neck squash.
It was the palest green, almost white. It was straight and ridged and extra long.
I wasn’t sure what I would find when I cut into it. But it was just a very unique cucumber. It was juicy and tender and just right for eating, despite its size (large ones often have very undesirable tough, bitter seeds in them).
I am not sure what has been going on out there under the leafy, vining covering, but there has been some mixing it up, for sure!
As I reflect on the garden of 2009, I have realized, OK-wow…I had lilies.
They are so random and scattered and were absolutely planted here or there with no expectations. And every single lily, whether the extremely drought resistant mini-daylilies or the exotic Easter and Asian lilies, were purchased on clearance by bulb. In fact, I got them so cheap they were pretty much purchased with a whatever-happens-happens attitude because I didn’t even know if they’d grow.
But now, a few years later, I am glad I took the risk and I have throughly enjoyed, considered even, the lilies.
“My lover has gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to browse in the gardens and to gather lilies.” Solomon in the Song of Songs 6.2
“Consider how the lilies grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.” Jesus in Luke 12.27
