The first frost of the season usually arrives in October though the year we arrived in Connecticut it came in late September; in some years it came as late as mid-November. October though is when the growth in the garden slows to a crawl as the leaves quicken to abandon their hosts. The tips of the hostas start to curl and and the golden rod explodes in yellow before fading away. The lawn no longer needs mowing as the grass is pushed down by maple leaves. The annual weeds are taking their leave exposing patches of soil requiring a reseeding of sorts. So in many ways the garden is ready for the deadening frost.
But the first frost often doesn’t obliterate the greenery outside but rather gives it a governing shot preparing us for a more lethal attack. The frost manifests itself on the roof of the garage as a thin sprinkling of white powder that evaporates quickly once the sun appears above the hill. Some tender flowers wilt but most hang on for another day or week.
The air is crisp and tingles the hairs in my nose as I go outside to get the morning paper. There is a sour-sweet smell of decomposition made more acute by the cold. My hands tingle slightly and my wet hair feels like needles going into my scalp. I quickly re-enter the warmth of my house.
The animals increase their activities as they realize time is short to collect food. The squirrels scavenge and bury acorns in the lawn and flower beds. The chipmunks scurry about looking for a lair to stay in the winter. Birds are attacking the feeders with more frequency and zeal as their food sources decline in bounty. Mice start to invade the basement of our house, which used to be a barn. The traps need to be changed out more often, increasing with frequency as the temperature falls.
The view of the hill opens up so we can begin to see the sun, which has been hidden behind the trees since Labor Day. In another few weeks, the sun will stream into our dining room for lunch. But that will be after a killing frost, the first prelude to winter.
