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Sunday, August 18, 2019

Chrysanthemums are here and so are your chickens




There is still a month to go before autumn officially arrives but one sign of the season is already here: the fall chrysanthemum.  Baskets of this popular flower in all the reds, burgundies and golds of fall are on display in grocery stores and nurseries. The sight of these flowers accompanies a growing chill in the air, and memories ride in on their heady scent.
I bought a basket of fall chrysanthemums for the front step of my little bungalow on Cambridge Court in Kemptville twenty-six years ago, as I organized things before heading to the Grace Hospital in Ottawa to give birth to my third child. My mother and sister were coming to look after my other two daughters, I knew other visitors would be coming to see the new baby upon our return from the hospital and I wanted the house to look nice. The tiny female who came into the world that week is a powerful force: my end-of-summer, setting sun, full moon in the night sky Leo the Lioness. Buckets of joyous full-bloom chrysanthemums celebrate her birthday every year.
Twelve years ago I bought huge potted arrangements of chrysanthemums in every colour for our garden wedding. They stood on either side of the homemade wooden altar as the backdrop to our vows, where I promised not to take over the kitchen and the Farmer promised not to take over the couch. After dinner we moved the biggest pots of flowers I have ever seen off the dance floor to make room so I could dance with my father, who was battling cancer. I didn’t know then that it would be our very last dance. But perhaps he did. Maybe that is why, after walking me down the aisle and giving a short speech at dinner he went home and changed out of his suit and had a short nap to regain his strength. When I think of that day I hear Chantal Kreviazuk singing, “Feels like home to me…feels like I’m all the way back where I belong…” I can feel his hand on the small of my back, guiding me around the floor.
 For the first ten years of our marriage I bought pots of chrysanthemums to decorate the farm for our annual end-of-summer party. Every year at the end of August the Farmer would build a dance floor out of 2 by 4’s and plywood and lay it down in the yard in front of the barn. Our musician friends set up lights and speakers and we were treated to performances by many of our daughters’ talented friends as we danced under the stars and chatted by the bonfire. On our record year I think we had 80 people in attendance. Many of them pitched tents so they could sleep over and enjoy a swim and brunch the next day. It was our own little Woodstock. We have been too busy to host our farm party in recent years but something tells me they will make a return in the near future.
Chrysanthemums are hardy, so they are usually still in full bloom by October, when we host about 40 family members for Thanksgiving. I hollow out small pumpkins and stuff them with fresh-cut bouquets as centrepieces for the half dozen tables we will set up around the yard. We haul the sunroom furniture out onto the back porch and our guests stay long into the evening, sipping coffee as the sun sets. We no longer need bug repellent in the evening; just a warm blanket to ward off the autumn chill.
Right about the time I am filling the car with chrysanthemums, the Farmer is filling his trailer with crates of fat, clucking chickens. By the time this column is in print (August 22), we will have a few dozen meat birds for sale. We need some for our own freezers, as we host close to 20 people for family dinner every Sunday, but we will have some available if you want to taste the farm-fresh difference.
I’m off to the store now to see what kind of chrysanthemums are on the market this year. I will choose burgundy-wine for me and golden yellow for the Farmer. At the end of the season I will choose a few plants to transfer to the flowerbed. If we get a good growing season they will come back next year, three times as big.

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