The last few days have brought a subtle yet undeniable change in season. We've had almost nothing but beautiful sunny days here for weeks, and it continues, but something is evolving. The sunlight is a little different; it hits the garden differently, it's duller in our rooms at five am when Sebastian wakes up briefly for milk. The sea breeze is heavier somehow, weighted with something more than salt air. It's a strange time of year. There's always mild regret for all we haven't done this summer, and an excitement for what's to come. I love autumn. At this time of year I force myself to enjoy the last weeks of summer without thinking too intently about the changes ahead. The fall is rich with complexity, such an intriguing time. We've been fortunate to have so many people visit this summer. I wasn't sure what being immobile would be like after so much moving, but friends just keep passing through, seeking us out. In the last month or two we've had at least a dozen house guests, and several more in the next couple weeks. This week we had five alone. Some days we're tired, crave solitude but mostly we're happy to have people here, aware that the winter likely won't be so generous. We've been trying to spend as much time as possible at the beach, in the ocean, outside by the fire in the evenings. Sebastian and I wander out to the hilly garden every morning to see how things are growing. The peas, herbs and borage are done. The squash is just beginning. The strawberries never did happen, but the weed-like plants double and triple and quadrupled in quantity. The rest is in between. As the sun changes and the prehistoric-sized squash plants and sunflowers cast shadows on the rest of the plants we have to make tough decisions about what we want to survive the most. The zucchini, carrots, beets are hidden in the mass of cabbage and squash, and in the shadows of the pretty but otherwise useless (or should I say useful only with labour-intensive processing) calendular and sunflowers. Leaves are developing mildew because they're not getting sun. But it's amazing, really, how plants adapt. Their will to survive, the competitive nature when it comes to sunlight. We've crammed a hell of a lot of food into four small plots and I think it's all doing alright.
Right now I've got a one year old strolling around the house (he doesn't crawl anymore) singing, maybe a little bored, patiently waiting to go to the beach.