Traditionally, this coming weekend would have been the first harvest, called Lammas or Lughnasadh by the ancient Celts. It marked the beginning of the harvest season. My own garden is a bit slow and scraggly this year. It’s the first planting at our new house, in this new spot. The soil seems to be decent enough, but the spot may be too wet and shady, and too accessible to our neighborhood rabbits and birds. I’ll have to make adjustments next year.
Doing all right are the carrots, tomatoes, lima beans, and beets. The rhubarb is struggling, as are the peppers and pickles. The onions, pumpkin, and cucumbers did not fare well. I think the asparagus may be ok, but I’ll have to wait until next year to know for sure.
So I’m not ready for a harvest, not yet. But the signs of autumn are not far away, and the kids are counting down until the end of summer vacation.
Fall is my favorite season, but I’m not quite ready for it. I have a few more things I’d like to do this summer. Soon, though. Soon I will embrace the shorter days and longer nights, the brisk wind and land ablaze in autumn colors, the spiced cider and smell of baking.
Until then, there is this (from Shel Silverstein):
Changing of the Seasons
Oh the changing of the seasons it’s a pretty thing to see
And though I find this balmy weather pleasin’
There’s the wind come from tomorrow and I hear it callin’ me
And I’m bound for the changing of the seasons
Oh it’s blowin’ in Chicago and it’s snowin’ up in Maine
And the Islands to the south are warm and sunny
And I’ve got to feel the earth shake and I gotta feel the rain
And I’ve got to know a taste of more than honey
So don’t ask me where I’m goin’ or how long I’m gonna be away
Don’t make me give you all the hollow reasons
I’ll think of you like summer and I might be back some day
When my heart miss the changing of the seasons
Oh it’s blowin’ in Chicago…
Oh it’s nothing that you said and it ain’t nothing that you done
And I wish I could explain you why I’m leavin’
But there’s some men need the winter and there’s some men need the sun
And there’s some men need the changing of the seasons
Yeah it’s blowin’ in Chicago…
Sheldon Allan Silverstein