The end of summer.
‘Twas yesterday eve that I felt the shift. The night temperatures would fall much too cold for summer crops. I gathered my long shawl- orange and reds to match the changing leaves- across my hair and over my shoulders to keep the encroaching dusk chill away and gathered my baskets.
Out into the gardens with falling light I felt for vegetables and fruits in the dirt, on vines, hidden in lush leaves, swiftly clipping and twisting them into my hands. Watermelons, butternut squash, yellow squash, poblanos, chilies, jalapenos, green peppers, and dozens upon dozens of green tomatoes came tumbling in.
Into the warm house where the fire was lit and the candles dazzled the rainy night. For rain it poured and torrents of it came, while lightening bid farewell to the summer night games. An autumn chill has descended here and the nights will stay cool as the sun tends to fall asleep early and the gardening days of fall are almost done.
The oil lamps lit, and candles brighten pages of good books. And the darkness descends us into a warming rest. I took a sip of tea and watched him put another log on the fire.