FROST
Came last night. On cat’s feet on something. The eggplant’s leaves are all curly and the peppers are mushy. Some of the weeds got burned
Something has to mark the start and the end of the season. The seasons are in fact cyclical, never ending, always changing, fluid, but it helps my mind to stay organized if there’s a start and an end. So: first frost is the end. First time I start seeds in the greenhouse, that’s when the season starts. Everything in between is non-descript, it doesn’t have a name and that means I don’t have to worry about it.
I’m going to supply my CSA for two more weeks, am still seeding cover crops, and am still building deer fences and greenhouses, but, the year is over. I mean, there was frost last night. Now I’m goofing off.
The off season can be a little intimidating, in that manner. Like a page with no lines or a recipe with no measurements, seems kinda fun at first, and you congratulate yourself for being such a free-spirited motherfucker, but you really have to stay on top of things or else you make a big mess.
It depends on your mood.
The view from the window right now can be interpreted in two ways. I can look out on all that I’ve gotten done over the past ten years. I can remember what the place looked like when I got here and think about what I’ve gotten done. Or I can think about all the things I haven’t gotten done. The plans that are on hold. I can think about what the place looked like when I got here and think about what a mess I’ve made.
I’ve been on an upswing lately. A pretty good mood. Deer fence is almost finished and there’s a pretty good sense of organization. Still, I’ve been here all this time and I still don’t have a grip on the knotweed back behind the house. And the laundry room is full of pieces of a sculpture I’ve been working on for about eight years.
Frost.
It’s an end and a beginning!
That kinda works for me right now. It means, on one hand, that I’ve gotten through another year. And it means, on another, that I’m freed up for a while, and I can get caught up on all that need to be done before next year. I can get all the ducks in a row and start off the next growing season with everything in place. Because I can’t wait. Next year is gonna be really good.
Something has to mark the start and the end of the season. The seasons are in fact cyclical, never ending, always changing, fluid, but it helps my mind to stay organized if there’s a start and an end. So: first frost is the end. First time I start seeds in the greenhouse, that’s when the season starts. Everything in between is non-descript, it doesn’t have a name and that means I don’t have to worry about it.
I’m going to supply my CSA for two more weeks, am still seeding cover crops, and am still building deer fences and greenhouses, but, the year is over. I mean, there was frost last night. Now I’m goofing off.
The off season can be a little intimidating, in that manner. Like a page with no lines or a recipe with no measurements, seems kinda fun at first, and you congratulate yourself for being such a free-spirited motherfucker, but you really have to stay on top of things or else you make a big mess.
It depends on your mood.
The view from the window right now can be interpreted in two ways. I can look out on all that I’ve gotten done over the past ten years. I can remember what the place looked like when I got here and think about what I’ve gotten done. Or I can think about all the things I haven’t gotten done. The plans that are on hold. I can think about what the place looked like when I got here and think about what a mess I’ve made.
I’ve been on an upswing lately. A pretty good mood. Deer fence is almost finished and there’s a pretty good sense of organization. Still, I’ve been here all this time and I still don’t have a grip on the knotweed back behind the house. And the laundry room is full of pieces of a sculpture I’ve been working on for about eight years.
Frost.
It’s an end and a beginning!
That kinda works for me right now. It means, on one hand, that I’ve gotten through another year. And it means, on another, that I’m freed up for a while, and I can get caught up on all that need to be done before next year. I can get all the ducks in a row and start off the next growing season with everything in place. Because I can’t wait. Next year is gonna be really good.
1 Comments:
At October 20, 2008 8:56 AM, Dana said…
Dear Free-spirited motherfucker, you are funny, and I think next year is going to be a good one too.
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