Whimsical clouds last night, with my matilija poppies in the foreground
Last week finally gave us the full force of summer, with temps just touching 100 degrees. This week, things have changed. Growing up in California, I learned to sniff out the very thin indicators of fall coming on--a slight freshness in the morning air, a deeper blue to the sky, and the rare leaf turning color. So even though we have real autumns here in Oregon, my dialed-in instincts have already started to detect the signs of fall on its way. Mornings are distinctly cooler. One of the first things I hear when waking up are the overflights of Canada geese, who have returned in force from their summer in Alaska. A few rogue red maples have already turned color. The days are still warm, and I'm crossing my fingers for enough warm weather to ripen my melons and winter squash, but these are the days that whisper to you that you should take advantage--soak up the sun that's suddenly changed from feeling oppressive to seeming luxurious in its impending scarcity, eat the last berries before there aren't any more, make a trek out of town and enjoy the woods and water before the cold gray of fall comes, windows close, and pellet stoves and fireplaces are lit once more.
Given my current writing
Our main fig crop has been late--very late--but we got quite a few yesterday, as you can see. We're not big fig eaters, so I put them up as freebies on Craigslist. My enthusiastic respondents were excited to get them. They also may need a website for their business, and have promised me a bottle of Grandpa's homemade barbecue sauce.
One of the surest signs of fall is the frequent sightings of geese passing the house. Here they're just clearing a tree in the adjacent yard. Geese flying low overhead is one of my favorite things about living here.