Nostalgia Season

 Second summer is giving way to fall, I guess. As a dyed in the wool cold weather guy I should be over the moon but this season particularly, late August through September, always has me a little melancholy. I dream about wild grapes and the last of summer fishing all year but it always seems to go by just fast enough to sting a little.

 

The workshop is a mess from a busy summer, but cleanup efforts will have to wait because there's a lot to do right now .

 

Fall peas are coming along nicely, if maybe a little slower than id have hoped. I have faith though, we'll get at least a small late harvest out of these guys.

 

I am blessed with one last productive zucchini plant. This is the type which keeps it's flowers attached to the fruit. A few more flor de calabaza quesadillas are in the works this season yet, as long as I can keep the mildew down. This bed is seeded with winter spinach and, through a clumsy error, winter lettuce. As the squash declines they will take over. I'll put a plastic row cover on this bed in a week or two.

This has been a year for peppers and they show no signs of letting up. Spectacular 

My radish bed is doing great, I've already harvested and eaten a handful of the very fast growing french breakfasts as you might notice from the sparse spots. With a plastic row cover I'll get another crop in after this one if all goes right. Fresh radish in November, with butter and salt, unspeakable luxury.

The boletes are determined to let me know the season has passed however, on a lovely Sunday in the woods they reminded me over and over.

But just in case I hadn't gotten the message a couple brook trout came around to remind me the season really is changing. Unfortunately I don't think this beautiful specimen made it. I did not catch him but rather found him stranded in a shallow. He was moved to a lovely pool for recovery but I fear I was too late. I had very little luck on the fly but perhaps it was for the best. I was looking for dinner in a late season bass or an early cousin of our little brookie here running up from the lake, or perhaps a vigorous fallfish. I rarely catch native brooks and I like to keep it that way, they're fragile and don't need my trouble. 

Anyway thanks for coming, gassho