Autumn in New Jersey is kinda the best.
For the longest time, I was a night owl. Since getting chickens, I've been forced to be more of a morning person. Although there is magic under the light of the moon, there is just as much in the early fog.
Thank you all so much for the kindness in that recent post. The compassion in the craft community always amazes me. I will always find the time and energy for these connections, for sharing here. There are some big changes coming to Buckaloo View Farm. I'm excited to share more about them in the next month or so.
Have a great weekend.
“In the wilds every season has its wonders, but there is always something unchanging: the immense, heavy sound of heaven and earth, the sense of being surrounded on every side, the darkness of the forest, the friendliness of the trees. Everything is heavy and soft, no thought is impossible there.”-Knut Hamsun, “Growth of the Soil”
I hope you are finding time to be out there, in the beauty of this season.
by Rainer Maria Rilke
The leaves are falling, falling as if from far up,
as if orchards were dying high in space.
Each leaf falls as if it were motioning "no."
And tonight the heavy earth is falling
away from all the other stars in the loneliness.
We're all falling. This hand here is falling.
And look at the other one... It's in them all.
And yet there is Someone, whose hands,
infinitely calm, hold up all this falling.
Have a nice Monday!
“It will come to you, this love of the land. There’s no gettin’ away from it if you’re Irish.”
-Gone With the Wind
In the next couple weeks, we should be getting our first frost. The garden is pretty sparse and the harvests are getting smaller. Mostly it's baskets of tomatoes. All of the potatoes have been dug up. Beets and turnips should be ready to harvest soon. The summer squash and bean plants have been pulled and are in piles strew throughout the garden. Parsley, lettuce and bean seeds are being gathered and saved for next year.
This year I had hopeful plans to try a fall garden. Unfortunately, in my inexperience, I started most of my seeds a bit late. (Though, if I had direct sown most of them, I might have done better. I never have good luck with growing anything in trays or containers.) Luckily radishes are quick yielders so I've had the joy of harvesting a few here and there. My peas are blooming but most likely won't have enough time to produce fruit. Two short rows of kohlrabi are looking taller and leafier but are also racing the clock. As well as collection of scrawny brassicas that won't amount to anything. I've been doing a little research on how to extended my season with row covers and thinking of possibly building a cold frame in some south facing spot. But I'm not pushing myself too hard as I learn to balance things in my life.
Until the frost hits, I'll continue harvesting tomatoes, radishes and marigolds (for dyeing.) Once it does hit, then I'll harvest my sweetened kale. Finally, the garden needs to be prepped for winter and the garlic planted.
A few weeks ago, a package arrived for me and after opening it, I just cried and cried. The good kind of cry. The kind that comes from being overwhelmed with how nice people can be. The level of kindness I’ve received since my Dad passed away back in March has been so touching. Not only from my family, friends and local community but the wider community I’ve come to know through blogging and Ravelry and other social media platforms. Inside the envelope was a comfort blanket. Andi was the one who brought it about, calling out to fellow Ravelers to knit or crochet blocks (in gray, knowing it’s my favorite color,) which she then stitched together. The result is such a beautiful variety of hand stitched love. It’s going to be so comforting to wrap myself in this blanket come winter. Thank you all, so much. (Details here.)