(curly leaf kale)
Riding on the back of the motorcycle Friday afternoon after work, crossing the Hudson River, observing Autumn make her breathtaking entrance into upstate New York, I recalled why I wanted to tell you this. Because I long for you to see what I see, hear what I hear- experience this moment with me. Cornfields are quickly being waylaid- just as fast as those huge stalks shot up- the season is now coming to a close. Huge machines are making their way through and harvesting that stuff right up- to be fed to dairy cows mostly. Acres and acres of inedible corn. Cover crops of soybean are turning from green to a marvelous golden color. Wheat and buckwheat are planted in fields across the county.
Recently, while weeding the broccoli I became mesmerized by the sway and rhythmic flow of the Sudan grass. The nearly six foot tall shoots of grass all shimmying in cadence making a sound like that of ocean waves. Peaceful and intriguing. The tops of these long blades catching wind and whipping to and fro. The field of Sudan grass started six feet from where I stood, lost in the sound, just listening, but I dare not get any closer. On of those long tendrils might just snatch me up.
(a artichoke in bloom)
Cornfields scare me more though. Corn Maze? Are you crazy!? We passed one this evening- right after the apple orchard and before the Farmer’s Daughter ice cream stand. Yes, we are in upstate New York. We also could have stopped no less than ten times to buy a pumpkin if we didn’t have forty bushels of them in the barn currently. Cornfields demand a sort of reverence, well, the sort of cornfields around these parts. I just remember a cornfield from some scary movie and that’s enough to keep me far, far away.That night as Chris and I sat on a picnic table behind the Farmer’s Daughter eating our ice cream we watched literally hundreds of geese land in the recently harvested cornfield (no lie) adjacent. These huge creatures in flight are something to behold. Flock after flock would fly overhead, circle back, and land honking out directions and greeting along the way. (I like to pretend anyway.) I love watching nature do her thing; the instinct of animals. The pattern and rhythm and natural progression of it all. “Are we not worth more than these?”
I asked Chris is we could head south for the winter too. He said, “Sure, why not.”
On the way home the sun made the yellow and deep orange hues in the trees more prominent. Dairy cows grazed behind their barely visible electric fences. (No barbed wire in these parts.) The dark outline of barns and silos in the distance as the setting sun pierced radiantly behind. It’s going to be an amazing autumn- full of color and beauty- even though I know it will only seem to be here momentarily. And I guess that’s why I’m trying to remember each feeling. Each first of the season.
(Thai basil)
If you were here I would make you some chia tea with cinnamon and warm pumpkin bread with dark chocolate bits in it. We could walk through the kale together and I’d point out the Russian red, the dinosaur, and the curly. I’d break you off some arugula to nibble on before heading to the herb patch. You could see the barn brimming with winter squash and onions and garlic- holding on for winter. But first, it’s going to be an amazing autumn. If you were here I’d take you to my favorite, scenic spot (the one where you can see the hills and the hills behind the hills and the shape of more hills way, way beyond that) and show you a piece of my world.
