Harvest

"All still when summer is over
stand shocks in the field,
nothing left to whisper,
not even good-bye, to the wind.

After summer was over
we knew winter would come:
we knew silence would wait,
tall, patient calm."
- William Stafford, Tragic Song

 It is harvest time for ourselves and all creatures. The bumble and honey bee are busily harvesting the remaining pollen before the rainy season descends and bends the giant flowers... dropping to touch the ground as the pollen runs down in rivulets. The few remaining squash blossoms are the symbols of hopefulness and beauty though too late for fruitfulness. 

Delicious sweet corn fills our plate daily, blackberries ripen and sweeten our food and the apples are near ready for picking. A few weeks ago 100 pounds of potatoes were harvested and are stored in their darkened room. New starts are put into the beds for some autumn fresh veggies. The ants that climb over the corn just tell us that the sugars are ready for harvest and they too are storing foods for winter. 

Corn
April Selley
We guide the extension cord out the kitchen door,
through the garden, to the corn.
We plug in the single burner;
put on the pot to boil. Silent among
stalks, we wait for the
hiss on the pan's bottom.

Old farmers say that corn begins to lose
its sweetness as soon as it is shattered
from the stalk. We have practiced
and are down to five seconds from plant
to pot. We shuck the corn; drop it in.

After five minutes, the tongs.
The boiling water will seal
the flavor for awhile. We are
leisurely with salt and butter;
the corn is too hot to touch. It's like
waiting for a kiss.
But it's true: this is
the only way to appreciate corn,
though every meal after this
will taste of decay. 
 

Our daylight hours are shortening as we pass the equinox and all creatures are working to fill their larders with their spoils. It is past the time of growing and flowers and swiftly moving into the time for mushrooms, wet, and the rich and pungent smell of decay. I look forward to the rains and the sound on our metal roof. The cooler nights are refreshing and a warning of the winter coldness to come. One day soon the creek will rise again and the land will drink deep and turn green. The hard clay will soften and the worms will come to the top to escape the water.

This is my favorite time of year because of the smells that float densely in the air. For the warm days that warm the skin after a cool night and morning. It is the time of orange and the revelation of a tree's skeleton. It is the time of beautiful light.