’Tis prime October

Locally, we’re close to peak color. We’ll probably attain it next week. Over the next couple of weeks we’ll put away the summer toys like the lawn mower and check out the snow blower. The mower deck will come off the tractor and the back blade will go on for the heavy, wet snows that make the blower struggle. But there are still some leaves to mulch and grass to mow before the season's change is done. That fits with the full moon on Sunday, which both the Ojibwe and the Lakota call the Falling Leaves moon.

artisan sourdough bread

Photo by J. Harrington

Sourdough baking is getting back into an autumn / winter schedule, which makes it easier to keep the starter fed, happy and bubbly. A book I ordered recently, Sourdough by Science, arrived today. I’m going to pretend there’s no inconsistency between science and artisanal bread making. It’s part of my effort to practice a “both, and” philosophy instead of the binary “either / or” I’ve been following most of my life.

It’s also the time of year when country mice and spiders are seeking warm, dry spots to spend the winter. Mouse traps are tending to the rodents and a plastic cup and cardboard catch and release routine takes care of most of the spiders.

So far, the most perplexing challenge of the season, whichever one it is on any given day, is managing proper clothing. Mornings near freezing and afternoons at or above 70s covers all but the deepest winter. It seems as though I’m perpetually over- or under-dressed these days. If that’s the biggest problem I have to cope with for the rest of the year, I’ll take it and be grateful.

Neighbors in October

By David Baker

All afternoon his tractor pulls a flat wagon

with bales to the barn, then back to the waiting

chopped field. It trails a feather of smoke.

Down the block we bend with the season:

shoes to polish for a big game,

storm windows to batten or patch.

And how like a field is the whole sky now

that the maples have shed their leaves, too.

It makes us believers—stationed in groups,

leaning on rakes, looking into space. We rub blisters

over billows of leaf smoke. Or stand alone,

bagging gold for the cold days to come.

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