And so we fall...into autumn

“No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace
as I have seen in one autumnal face” - John Donne
They say a falling leaf is nothing more than the summer’s wave goodbye. Autumn is my favourite time of year. “Indian Summer” can bring thirty degree temperatures but the refracted light of the fall in Eastern Ontario is soft and gentle: not harsh and glaring as it was in summer. The evenings are cool and fresh, “good for sleeping”, as we Canadians are apt to say.
We caught Rambi doing the dance with one of the ewes a few weeks ago, so he and his friend Rambo are now trapped in a lambing pen, until December. He may have already taken care of a couple of ewes, so we will likely have a few Christmas lambs again this year. But the bulk of them will be born in the spring, as they were this year. It’s much easier. They’re in the barn for a shorter amount of time before the new grass is up. That means less hauling hay and water to the lambing pens for me.
The Farmer mentioned a few times that he might sell off most of the sheep this year, and slowly move our operations over to beef cattle. I will miss my lambs if that happens but I won’t miss the worry. I get really attached to them and when something goes wrong (like a coyote kill), it keeps me up at night. The Farmer says beef will be easier, but when I say that to other farmers, they laugh. And that worries me a bit too. Must do some more thinking on that one.
All of the stores have fall mums on sale now. I am trying not to buy one in every colour. It’s very tempting. I love love love flowers.
The nasturtiums and marigolds I planted in rows in and around the tomato and potato plants seem to have done their job. The Farmer pronounced it my “best garden ever”. I beam with pride. Even if I can’t get time in the kitchen, at least I can grow something for Sunday dinner. (I’m just kidding – I don’t really like cooking and am quite obviously well-fed by the Farmer).
It’s time to hem the school uniforms, buy the school supplies, and stock up on lunch foods. The Ex is over, the annual Fisher Farm party is over, and it’s all down hill from here – or up hill, depending on how you look at it. I love the changing seasons. It’s how we mark the passage of time.
Our horse is supposed to be pregnant, but we don’t know for sure. She hasn’t been hiding behind the bushes with morning sickness, I haven’t seen her knitting booties the size of dinner plates, and she isn’t requesting pickles and ice cream. She isn’t doing anything different, actually. Misty spends her days in the back meadow with her bff Donkey. She comes up for water, attention, and shelter at night. We will watch her closely, to see if she starts to look like her ankles are swelling. A new foal would be a lovely way to welcome spring.
This summer lived up to its almanac prediction of being a thirty-degree scorcher. Let’s see how winter turns out. The Farmer’s Almanac (not my Farmer) says Winter 2010 in Ontario will be “bitterly cold and dry”. Thanks for the warning. I prefer a snowy winter, because the snow is beautiful, it insulates everything (including the water pipes to the barn) and it gives you something to ski, snowmobile and play in.
For now, I will enjoy the fall. It must be right around the corner, because the tree that is always the first in town to turn (the maple outside Vincent’s salon on County Road 18) is already losing its flaming leaves.