The Rural Voice, 2000-09, Page 56n those last
lingering days of
summer, when the
warmth of the sun
reluctantly gives way
to the cool autumn
breeze, I feel a certain
restlessness set in.
Nothing I can really
pin down, just a vague
feeling of change in
the air.
It's there in the
wind that whistles
through the tall grass,
and it flies in perfect
formation with Canada
geese, as they pass
overhead. Gently, it
mingles with wood
smoke and damp
leaves to produce a
distinct, earthy aroma,
particular to this time
of year. It whispers of
shorter days and much
to do. Summer slowly
subsides, not quite
willing to relent, yet,
having spent its
energy, not quite
wanting to stay. Soon,
it will gracefully
surrender, as the first
sign of autumn
approaches.
If all this seems a
little melancholy, it's
only because fall is'a
season that invites a
thoughtful look back.
Once again, I find
myself knee-deep in
leaves, rake in hand,
wondering where the
time has gone. Suddenly, there's the
rush to go back to school, to break
out the jackets and sweaters, and to
put up the storm windows. My
husband brings in more firewood,
while I rummage through the closet
for the comforters. There are cool
autumn evenings to come.
Harvest time is a busy time. It
represents all the hard work and
devotion we put into the growing
season. Bunches of fresh oregano,
thyme and sage are hung to dry in the
kitchen, while Indian corn greets
guests at the door. An apple basket,
brimming with dried statice and
everlastings, brings the colour and
As another summer dwindles down it's time to
count the blessing of your harvest —
both your crops, and your memories
By Carol Riemer
52 THE RURAL VOICE
texture of the country inside. Our
interest in heartier fare is heightened
by cooler weather, so it won't be long
before my husband returns from the
market with several 50 pound bags.
Potatoes, onions, carrots and an
armful of his favourite pepper squash,
will help see us through the long
winter.
Leaves crackle beneath my feet as
I walk up the hedgerow to the top of
the hill. From there, I can see through
the maples, past freshly tilled fields,
to where the sun disappears behind a
tall stand of pines. With the sudden
snap of a branch, I turn to catch a
glimpse of a startled deer heading off
in the direction of
the cedar woods. In
the distance, the
sharp call of
mallards in the
marsh echoes a curt
reminder that it's
time to get back to
work.
Tomorrow, 1' I I be
in the garden while
my husband fixes
that loose eaves -
trough and repoints
the chimney. Our
son will spend the
day cutting the lawn
and our daughter
will help compost
the leaves. Another
busy day, but after
all the work is done,
we'll take time to
celebrate the season.
Perhaps, we'll
attend a country
auction, stroll
through the farmers'
market, filled with
fresh local produce
or take a studio tour
to visit some of the
talented artisans
whose art is a
reflection of country
living. Handcrafted
quilts, hand -glazed
pottery and
reproductions of
antique tools and
implements, forged
in fire by a local
blacksmith, are
reminders of the
traditions and heritage that strengthen
our ties with the past.
After joining friends and
neighbours at the fall fair, a visit to
one of the many festivals held at this
time of year might be in order.
Perhaps, we'll head out to the orchard
for a day of apple picking with the
family. Later, a slice of home -baked
apple pie served up with old-
fashioned hospitality at a country
tearoom would definitely be a treat.
September's song is a haunting
melody. It's one that will invite you
back, year after year, to another time
and another place. Hope to see you
there.0