It’s a weird time of year in Southern California. The kind where I’m ready for Fall – for sweaters and boots, plenty of tea, rain dripping from the rafters, the Roger’s Red turning scarlet on the front of the house, cooler temperatures, fires in the fireplace.
But not likely to get any of it.
Well, I suppose I am getting cooler temperatures if you want to go with semantics. Today it was 85 and not 100+. But still, no sweaters, tea, fires, or rain. I won’t get any real “Fall” until December, probably, the way things work around here, unless I decide to go to the pumpkin patch for the manufactured variety. Christmas is about when the Roger’s Red decided to turn last year, and the giant tree on my lawn to drop its leaves. Sigh. It seems deplorably far away.
So instead I’m looking at pictures on my Tumblr feed and feeling envious. I’m trying to think up stories that are Halloween themed. I’m pulling out the spider earrings, which I can wear despite the temperature. I’m contemplating fall jams. Last year, the nutmeg persimmon jam I did was really good… And there has to be something that can be done with the Ichabod Crane story that hasn’t been thought of before, right? Maybe? Maybe not.
In the garden, I’m taking stock of all the plants we lost to the heat. The lemon tree made it through and so did most of the front garden, though the Butterfly Bush is traumatized and we lost a Sweet Pea hedge and a rose bush. Don’t worry, the umbrella plant I abhor took its place. And speaking of things I want to rip up, it’s time to get the tomatoes out, too, in prep for next year. They’ve officially given up the ghost and aren’t fruiting.
That’s all from home. I hope that wherever you are you can enjoy the flannel I can’t.
Casey E. Hamilton 