Never Pass This Way Again

Even if I wander these paths in the garden every October of my life, they will never be exactly as they are now.

The mornings in October have finally cooled down properly. The rain has come in over the hills with the cold air behind the drops. The hills have turned golden in hues of orange, red, brown, and yellow. There are certain days every week when my daughter doesn’t have school where she and I head out to enjoy the morning Autumn air.

We let the chickens out into the garden to clear the tomatoes we know won't ever turn now and to scratch the soil to remove all the bugs that hide away waiting for next spring. We leave the chickens to their work while we slowly harvest and take out the plants that no longer serve the garden. The last of the zinnias and cosmos are still full of blooms as if they have not been told summer had passed when the rain came from the north.

The little sparrows cover the heads of the dead sunflowers, hunting for the last seeds to keep them well-fed this winter. They fly up in a flock the moment our voices disturb them. They will return once they know we won't bother them and will continue their work of saving for the inevitable snowfall. 

Though the garden is no longer alive with the buzzing bees or the flitting of the butterflies and bustling of hummingbirds, there is still an abundance of life in the mid-October garden as we await the frosts that will gently speak of the perfect timing to end. I gather the last of the hazelnuts from the bushes but leave plenty for the squirrels. I clip the sage. I remove the squashes that just didn’t survive the bugs this year. I pull a few beets that never bulbed and clip back the collards that have grown bitter. The green onions rise with vigor on these cool days, and the stark difference between the spring and fall garden is in tone and layers, even if many of the veggies still are the ones we know of in spring.

I see new life even here at what feels like the end. The borage reseeded and is vibrantly alive once again as it was in June. The chamomile is already coming back around the spinach and tatsoi. The nasturtium seems to have not noticed summer came and went already. There is still so much bursting from this soil that it is hard to believe we are nearing the end.