The sun has shown up. September has reached it’s potential after a week or so of rain. The song birds are still sorting it out. It’s like a hangover, forgotten as soon as the next shot has been downed. The next shot being the clear blue sky.
There was a touch of frost Tuesday morning. It killed some tomato leaves and the zucchini looks pissed. It wasn’t hard. It can be expected. Two years ago a hard frost hit at the end of August. After, it was easy sailing to the end of October.
Last year we picked kale to the ninth of November.
Willow and I walked the edge. The river is up from the snow melting in the high country. It’s like a tiny spring, but better.