As Labor Day fades along with the crowds at the beach, the signs of Fall accelerate. The first hint of change ironically is not spawned by nature but man in the mid-August appearance of Halloween candy in grocery and drug stores and mums and asters in garden centers. The heat of the season tests us while these fall flowering plants wait for chilling temperatures and less light to bloom to their potential.
Nature is catching up.
The sunflowers have started to go to seed, with their large bulbous heads bending over and being held up by the fence as would an old man or woman using a cane or walker. They share the burden of weight that can no longer defy gravity and now require support in the attempt to stay erect. Only a few weeks ago they held their heads high, in a line turning with the sun throughout the day. Finches hover about the spent zinnias, cosmos, marigolds and sunflowers surgically selecting the seeds, the opposite of squirrels who have yet to discover these unprotected feeders. Once found by squirrels, the seed heads have little chance of permanence.
But the squirrels may be preoccupied with the early exit of dropping acorns and leaves in shades of brown, yellow, red and green. A rush of wind pulls them from their perch in a slow prelude to their rapid exodus in the next month. Charlotte collects and organizes them in little piles attempting to tidy up the yard. She looks high into the trees with their dull green leaves asking why some are falling and others not. Her grandfather can not proffer an answer. In the woods the golden rod has started to bloom with it’s pendulous bright blooms contrasting against the spent brown flower stems of hostas and astilbes.
One of the more spectacular indications of the season are the blooms on Japanese knotweed, whose white lacy flowers innocently present themselves in a bouquet fit for a bride. They look so innocent until you realize that they like wild grape, mugwort, bindweed and other invasive species are not satisfied until they establish an exclusivity the tolerates nothing else. You are torn as to whether you should nip their reproductive progress in the bud though you realize that you have no choice in the matter.
In the vegetable garden, it is different as it passed its prime a few weeks back with large harvests of potatoes, cucumbers, squash, tomatoes, greens and beans. The tomatoes and beans are continuing to provide fruit, but it is on thinned out spotted vines that struggle to maintain their rigor. The last month has been difficult as the lack of rain and heat has transformed some beds to desert-like dryness. We have been watering only every other day as we worry about empting the well: a few weeks ago all the aerators in the house became clogged with silt, an indication that we have been using too much water.
The need, however, for water is decreasing as many of the greens have bolted, the cucumber vines have collapsed and the deep green of the bush beans has been transformed to a veined yellow. Some crops are getting ready, however, for harvest. The quince bush has produced dozens of fruits, ready in a month for eating. Red and purple berries hang off the winter and beautyberry bushes, respectively, as fueling stations for migrating birds in the months to come. A lone fig struggles to size and maturity before the first frost arrives. And in a local pond, the mallards gather ready to leave for warmer climates.
