Observing the Transition to Fall

Morning chores give me a daily snapshot of the agrarian Northwoods experience. Tucked within the boundaries of the Chequamegon National Forest, the woods and wetlands are just as much an integral part of our century farm as the fields and gardens. Wildlife intermingle with livestock, and just as I take time to notice how the birds and beasts in my care are faring, so too do I check in with the wild flora and fauna scene.
Just this morning, the old sugar maples in the barnyard started tinging orange and gold just at the very top. Two days ago, a flock of bluebirds were busy flitting on the pasture fences. Today, they are all gone, though the sandhill crane family lingers yet, hoping their teenaged chick grows big enough to fly south. No more do the hummingbirds visit the feeder, though an elegant monarch followed me for a good 20 minutes during chores.
The changes come so fast this time of year. Darkness falls near 7:30 pm, and dried leaves are beginning to blow about on the driveway. Pumpkins in the patch are taking on their orange hue as well, grateful that the frosts have waited after such a late spring. Everywhere, the rodents are busy packing away for winter—which always makes life interesting on a homestead with its store of coveted grain.

This last week, as part of our Second Sunday Writer’s Circle, one of the prompts pulled from the basket was “A Walk in the Woods.” We had five minutes. Here is what I wrote:
Sunny shafts of light glint in at an angle. I can already sense that the sun sweeps lower in its sky-gliding arc. Fall is in the air, with reds and golds peeping here and there amidst the lingering greens. No more the calls of the red-winged blackbirds—they have all moved on a while ago. Overhead, the ravens with charcoal wings soar, crying to each other in raspy voices.
I try to walk as quietly as possible, amidst the dried leaves and grasses along the path. Not quite silent enough, though, for the ruffed grouse, which explodes from her hideout in the underbrush like a feathered bomb with poor aim—just so long as its flight lands further away from this woodland intruder.
Squirrels and chipmunks busy themselves, rustling about in the leaves. They know what is soon coming, their rush and forgetfulness helping to plant the next generation of the forest.
***
Fall also means the wind-down from the hectic schedule of summertime. Still, what a beautiful evening last night under the late summer sky, with token dragon flies hurrying about as we savored wood-fired pizzas and acoustic songs. There are still three weekends left to catch that series, and my performance night is September 29th.
Fall flavors are creeping into our farm-to-table dinners, with crabapple-glazed seared pork loin, served with roasted carrots and smashed potatoes dug right from the garden. Burgundy-tinged maple leaves accompanied the zinnias and wild asters of the table decorations. And even though this series wraps up in early October, if you can bring together a family, friends, or colleague group of 10 or more people, you can book your own farm-to-table experience at Farmstead throughout the winter season. We’ll take a month-long hiatus for fall lambing, so this offering would begin in mid-November. Please call for further details and date availability.
With the transition to fall, harvest is coming in at full swing, with apples and winter squashes on the horizon, once we have a nipping frost to set the sugars. Our annual potato-digging festival is also on the horizon, and I’m looking forward to the phone call from Joni about her beautiful garlic crop. The root cellar will start filling up—storing away for delicious meals and bountiful CSA produce shares to come.
How do you mark the transition to fall? Do you press leaves, can or pickle? Do you walk the trails looking for the ruffed grouse or mark the migrations of birds in the calendar? Do you savor the cooler days as you busy with yard work before snow flies? Whatever it is, take some time to share it with a friend. Fall is always too short, so savor each day. See you down on the farm sometime.