My Season.

August. Not my favorite month. It has had moments of feeling as if it is flying by and other moments of feeling as if it will never be over. It’s that awkward in between time. Summer is almost over, but autumn isn’t quite here yet. But I might as well enjoy it, it is, after all, the end of my season.







The end of tomatoes warmed by the sun fresh from the vine. Hours of my hands in the dirt, pulling weeds and pruning away the unnecessary growth on tomato vines. Baskets of produce proving my work had paid off. Crisp green beans. Bright, yellow squash. Prickly cucumbers. Shiny, green and red peppers of all sorts. Tomatoes of all shapes and sizes. And the Jackson Wonder Lima beans for my grandmother. An experiment to replace her beloved Christmas Lima beans. It paid off. Exactly what she wants without the use of trellises for vines. Perfection.



The end of spraying the girl with the hosepipe as she squeals, stealing quick drinks from the hosepipe and later wondering if that was the cleanest idea ever. She survived it, though. No ill effects.





The end of chicks, ducklings and broody hens. Oh, I hope it is the end of broody hens. Between the ones who are smart enough to hide away with their nest of eggs to only later return with a clutch of 7 little fluff balls and the ones who stay inside the hen house and sit upon nothing but air… Yet peck my hands unmercifully when I check just to be sure they haven’t laid an egg, I’m a bit done with that.



Not to mention the decrease in their egg production and the sudden increase in interest in my eggs. Why didn’t that happen in the spring and early summer when I had baskets of them?







The end of zinnias… Oh, I’ve had a love affair with them this year. Next year, I want to plant as many of them as possible. A yard of zinnias alone would make me beyond happy. Of all shapes, colors and sizes.









The end of the girl spending the day with me without worries of school, homework and sports. Napping if and when she pleased because her parents do not implement a strict bedtime in the summer. Flowers in her hair, sweat on her brow, dirt on her hands, sidewalk chalk on her clothes. A perfect summer for a 6 year old.



The end of what seemed to be never ending canning and freezing… And thinking if I had to cut more corn off the cob again, I might very well go nuts or toss it out back for the chickens.

Much is coming to an end… and while it feels like this was my season, I can’t help but think autumn could also be my season. Thoughts of all that is to come makes me feel this excitement bubble inside. Excitement for all things I love about autumn. The crisp air, vibrant leaves, carving pumpkins with the girl, pumpkin lattes, the fair.

And I can’t wait for it to begin… Could be my season, too.