The heat has broken at last, in a glorious cooling wind that brought rain and a genuine feeling of the season shifting. I’ve learned not to hold too tightly to the calendar declarations — as far as I’m concerned, autumn arrived roughly late Thursday afternoon.
As I look out of my window now, there’s a grey menace of sky and a definite tilt of the foliage to the east as the wind rattles through, sending the dried leaves skittering across the grass.
The carnage of the hedgerow* continued, peaking yesterday with the hacking down of a mature highbush cranberry, leaving pounds and pounds of winter food lying to rot. B, being my hero and knowing that these things matter (although I know I still do bewilder him sometimes), took himself out after the workers left and collected the cranberries - filling two large bags - which I stowed in the freezer. Once the temperatures drop, I’ll bring them out and hang them from the surviving trees and shrubs. Highbush cranberry is native here and is an important food in late winter, when most of the other berries have gone. The whole fence-line is a sickening mess. But this, at least, is something. Salvage, anyway.
I still have a gift certificate for the garden center where I’ve bought native shrubs before. If I’m lucky, they’ll still have some left and I’ll plant them before the frost comes. As an offering, an apology, a way to make amends for the ignorance and foolishness of others.
Earlier, as the rain gently fell, I went to visit the scene of the latest carnage; there were words (inasmuch as words are required between ourselves and the green people) and promises and I scouted some locations on the land under our protection for planting and seed sowing.
The workers didn’t come back today. I hope that means they’re finished.
* I often write about the things that I can't write about in my TinyLetter -- the link to which I've buried somewhere in these webby pages. If it's anything like mine, your digital letterbox is no doubt overflowing, so I'd rather you didn't seek it out unless you're truly wanting it. The very last thing I want to do is contribute to the noise and clutter.
** the plant pictured above is chocolate boneset (Eupatorium rugosum)...a native relative of another old friend of mine, Joe Pye-weed.