Late September-Early October: Journal

Soybean fields on the river road.

Pumpkins and mums headed for the Casey County Produce Auction.

Seasonal displays outside Laverne's Market.

Warty pumpkins.

When did pale pumpkins join the ranks?

Observe the price tag on this giant!

Sunrise is later each morning.

The colors change quickly.

Edward on the small front patio enjoying the morning air.

I started this post on October 1st--photos and text whisked away, no copy saved. This has happened several times recently; I'm using my laptop while my desktop PC is away for service.  It may be that the laptop keyboard is extra sensitive--or that I unwittingly hit a key which deletes all.

Late September

Cool mornings, eastern skies streaked with rose, peach, mauve and lavender. By afternoon the temperatures climbed to the low 80's F.

The routine home making tasks were broken by errands on several days. I needed a 50 lb bag of bakers' unbleached flour, reason enough to make a run to the South Fork community. Most of the businesses and shops there are owned by families of the Amish or Mennonite persuasion, the pace is slower, each customer valued, service courteous.

The one caveat is the narrow winding roads shared by laden semis, bicycles, farm tractors, horse-drawn buggies, in addition to the usual traffic of cars and pickup trucks.

I met two semis--one loaded with logs, the other with pallets of lumber; in both cases there was room to pull to the side of the road and give them room. 

Back in the day if Jim wasn't along I would attempt to manage the 50 lb sack of flour by myself--heaving it into the shopping cart from a stacked shelf. Now the bulk flour, beans and rice are housed in a cooler, so a young Mennonite woman who was clerking called the owner from his office to pull out my chosen product: Seal of Minnesota Bakers' Flour. He assured me that he would be available to load it in my car, however he had retreated back to his office by that time.  I had noticed an elderly Amish gentleman also shopping--short and stooped, thin brown arms below the rolled up sleeves of a faded shirt. It was he who followed me out to the car, the sack of flour clasped to his middle. When I thanked him he smiled through the gaps in his teeth and commented wryly, 'I'm not quite what I used to be!'

Since I was in the neighborhood, so to speak, I decided to visit The Quilters' Trunk so see if they had restocked batik fabrics. There are two roads that go there--both steep and winding; the route I chose was longer but slightly less daunting in terms of sheer drops from the edge of the road into a ravine.

As I began the first twisting climb I caught up with an Amish buggy driven by a young woman with a child on the seat beside her.  Toiling behind was a sturdy older woman, walking to lighten the load for the horse. Rolling down the car window I asked if she would like a ride to the top of the hill. red-cheeked, smiling beneath her white head covering she declared, 'Thank you, but the exercise does me good.'  I eased the car along until I could carefully pass the buggy; the horse was leaning into the climb, head down, feet clopping a plodding rhythm. 

Pies made on Thursday, one for us, one to welcome the former buyers of our Amish farm back to a new place in the neighborhood; one to pop in the freezer in reserve for Matt and Gina who supplied the apples from last week's produce auction.

A last view of the sunflower row--later in the day they fell to Jim's mower.

Seed heads of Joe Pye weed.

Goldenrod growing in the brush and weeds along the north ravine.

The turning of a calendar page, cool misty mornings warming to dry afternoons in the 80's--evenings that draw in a little earlier each day, daylight disappearing in fiery afterglow.

The plants in the containers lining the patio are spent and drooping, ready to be discarded or trundled to the greenhouse in hopes of spring revival. 

The hummingbirds have departed, their numbers diminishing over the last week of September, until I wondered if those seen briefly at the feeders might be transients on their way south, rather than the summer residents. Today Jim took down the feeders; taking them apart for a final cleaning I discovered the base of one filled with drowned yellowjackets.

Shield-shaped 'stink bugs' crawl about on the porch screens, find their way into the house  trailed by the cats until I notice and escort the nasty things outside to be squashed,

Any day now the yearly invasion of Asian ladybugs will begin and the windows will need to remain closed against their onslaughts.

Leaves have begun to yellow and drift from the trees; some cornfields have been shorn, in others the stalks have turned sere and brown awaiting harvest. 

At times the weeks seem to pass slowly, but at the turn of the seasons each day brings changes--for those who take notice.