the last of the tomatoes

Picked the last of the tomatoes because snow is in the forecast, but then there really were only a dozen good tomatoes left on the vines, and I just keep hoping that, I just kept hoping.

We are about 2 months from the winter solstice, it really is time to put the garden to bed for the year. I keep telling myself that as I watch the rainbows cast by the sun at it lowering angle strikes the prisms in the kitchen window it's time to take the screens out of the windows.  It will make the house a tiny bit brighter during the winter months, when any little bit of sun is welcome.  The silent and somber landscape begs us to look closely and see it's hidden secrets, it whispering sounds, subtle colors.  Like a soothing sameness it allows us to quiet our minds, and  rechannel our energy.  Perhaps to look forward, and perhaps to turn inward, and perhaps just to daydream and explore the world through books or the Internet machine. 

It's soup and casserole weather,  something that may not be necessary in our world of central heat, however since there is less to do outside, there is time to prepare soup and bread or may-be a ham and Swiss strata.  Hot cuppa tea. anyone
 


And almost right on cue the snow started, soft feathery flakes began to cling to everything.  Colors began to blurr, the sky and the ground began to merge in the distance.   The aroma of woodsmoke drifted on the wind, and I traded in my shorts and T shirt for jeans and a jacket.