It is Thanksgiving weekend in Canada; the weekend that harkens the end of the summer and the beginning of fall. After a blistering hot and long summer that rolled well into September, it has become cold over the last two weeks. The trees have begun turning colour. The mornings have become cold. The days are getting shorter. Some of the late blooming flowers are still in colour; there are patches of violet in my backyard where the Morning Glories are clinging to yellowing vines. But it is clearly, the last hurrah of summer.
At the Meyer’s Farm, just outside of town, the boxes are full of fruits and vegetables. There are several varieties of apples, potatoes, onions, carrots, broccoli and beats. There are brightly coloured gourds, orange pumpkins of all sizes, and stems of Gladiolas. I love this time of year. The cold mornings give way to cool, blue-sky days that are brisk and refreshing. This is weather that inspires cycling, running, and hiking. It is invigorating.
Fall is a feast for the senses. The organic world, which was awash in shades of green and gold, breaks into a riot of colour. A line of bushes are blood red, the alder trees are bright yellow, and the maple tree behind the house is green with patches of bright orange, blood red and yellow. Nothing looks the same. These colourful weeks are fleeting. We will wake up one morning and find that the leaves have all fallen. The world will grow stark with naked trees, brown dead leaves, and long dark nights. The frogs and fish in our pond will hibernate for the winter; the birds will migrate south. The natural world will become quiet and still. But not today!!