Fall around here is mesmerizing. The trees ringing the pasture are orange-ing, the mornings are misty and cool, the fireplace is keeping us company again come evenings, and the elk are bugling right outside our back door (and under stars and moon we hear the wooden clack of antlers crashing in battle).
Our garden is dying back (except the zucchini, which seems to be raging, raging against the dying of the light), and it's bittersweet. For next season, we'll be gardening in the pasture in front of our house. New neighbors are moving in next door, and so we're picking up our fencing and greenhouse and shifting to a new plot. I was somewhat devastated at first; that garden, my first very own garden, felt like my child. But good things abound: we hope to befriend the neighbors, we think this new plot will get more sunlight, and it's twice as big (yes, we measured). More space for more veggies! Our landlords are pretty awesome to let us till up their sheep pasture to grow things.
We harvested our soup beans, potatoes, and winter squash. We'll still be harvesting carrots, beets, kale, fall lettuce, chard, some basil, and hopefully brussels for a while to come in the old space.
This evening, we planted one row in the new space of favas and shallots. Not to be harvested until spring and midsummer, respectively. How odd, to tuck seeds into the ground knowing that a whole winter and spring of waiting lies before us. It's an investment in the future.
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