The skies are clear and the temperature is plummeting. Last night the thermometer went down into the 30s. Tonight we might have our first frost. My vegetable garden, a jungle in mid-summer, is now mostly bare. I know that it’s possible to extend the season with poly-tunnels and cold frames. I have no desire to do that. This time of year I take pleasure in yanking out old plants and raking the beds clean. A garden is demanding. Vegetables need to be harvested and dealt with on their schedule. Meal planning is determined by what is ripe. There’s a lot of nostalgia and fervor over local and sustainable and eating by the seasons, but honestly, my chard has been green and upright since early spring. I’m tired of it!

I’m happy, though, to have a second harvest of green beans. Green beans don’t ask a lot of the cook.

The tomatoes have succumbed to blight.

There weren’t many left, anyway. I harvested the last trug-full and turned them into green tomato chutney last night.

A month ago, after harvesting carrots, I planted zinnia seeds. What a pleasure to have a bed of color that asks nothing of me.

The bees appreciate the blooms, too.

I’ve still got work to do in the garden. A last thorough weeding eases springtime chores. A gardener has to look ahead. But, not everyone has that attitude. Scooter knows best what to do as summer winds down – sunbathe while you still can.

This past Thursday, Boston was under a heat advisory. It was muggy and temps reached into the 90s. It was sweltering, and yet in September, you know it won’t last, and so the heat feels like a bit of a last hurrah. It was miserable, and yet even the animals seemed to tolerate it better than the oven that was midsummer.

Tomatoes (finally touched by blight) kept the hens refreshed.

Instead of staying cool in the shade, they brazenly took dust baths in the sun. (I love this photo – old Twinkydink and young Owly are companionably sharing the prime space.)

Phoebe stayed comfortable stretched out on the concrete floor of the coop.

I gave the goats an armful of water celery. It’s in bloom, but it remains crisp. The aroma is sharp and herbal, quite bracing and cooling.

The Beast and her minions were delighted with the heat. They continue to be fed through the fall, but I keep an eye on the pond temperature. When it gets below 60 degrees F, I switch to an easy to digest feed. Below 50 and I stop feeding altogether. Over the winter, the fish slowly swim in the deep, near the rock, their bellies empty. But for now, they eat with gusto. The heron has not been by, as can be seen by the quantity of gold flashing in the water. This has been a very good year for the Beast.

But, last night, we slept with the windows open and blankets on the bed. The air is crisp. We’re going apple picking.