It’s
blustering outside. Autumn winds are disarraying empty buckets, flapping loose
tarps, dislodging dead branches, and rolling over the glider near the chicken
yard. The chickens last night wisely called it an early evening and trooped up
the ramps into the relative calm of the coop well before dark. The first
freezing temperatures of the season are in the forecast for later in the week,
which sets in motion a flurry of farmstead tasks.
The rain
barrels must be moved inside, and since we value using this precious resource
in the greenhouse next March on the emerging seedlings that means storing
several of the barrels — full — in the garage. Yesterday, then, saw a bucket
brigade; first emptying a barrel, then setting it up in the garage, then
refilling it with buckets filled by emptying another one of the barrels,
repeating, until now we have four full barrels stored and ready in the garage,
and the remaining four empties stored away in the shed.
I finally
gathered up the remnant bales from last winter’s duty around the chicken coops
and spread the straw over the newly planted garlic rows as mulch. And, of
course, there are still vegetables in the garden — peppers galore, beets and
radishes, cabbages and chicories, drying beans and diakons. We made an initial
gleaning yesterday that was transformed into salsa, but there is still much to
gather and find a way to store. There will be more sauces and salsas, relishes
and dehydrations, ferments and freezing — and, of course, eating.
There is a
frenetic side to these otherwise quieting days of autumn’s decline, revealing
in the rushing just how abundant the summer and succeeding weeks have been.
It is a
hurry and a run...
...for which
we are amazed...blessed...and grateful.
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