Fall

    Fall in the northeast is glorious. It seduces its inhabitants to remain put until suddenly the wonderment has passed and they are stranded in the snow. That is nature's revenge for the colorful display she is forced put on to keep the natives in thrall until she can overwhelm them with winter. This is the time of year that we do not covet our southern neighbor's weather and extended gardening season. Alas, the season is all too short and we will all too soon again envy those in milder climes.

    The pots that summered outdoors come inside. From Abutilon , Brugmansia and on down the alphabet, they are salvaged for a rebirth in the spring. I carefully remove all the slugs and sow bugs from the bottom of the pots before I bring them inside. I never seem to get them all, however. They too over winter indoors.

    Seasoned fireplace wood is stacked in the garage, ready to help dispel the forthcoming gloom. We have already tried out this method of denial on a couple of frigid days this fall. That is another advantage of living where we do, sitting before a roaring fire while the snow swirls outside.

    Another point of relief will be the gardening articles of our Tasmanian Gardener. What is exotic to one set of gardeners may be most common on the other side of the world. Our roadside weed, the Sumac, is a specimen plant in Tasmania. It redeems itself here by contributing  to the fall festival of color. An additional way we have of keeping warm and sane in the winter is downloading the images of things that grow "down under" when all around us is cold and barren. They remind us that relief, though seemingly impossible, will eventually come.

    Fall chores are underway. Fertilizing the beds of spring flowering bulbs. Gathering the spent plants of summer for the compost pile. Saving seed for the following spring. Finding places within the house for all the many plants that summered in the unheated enclosed porch. Until some years ago I religiously drained the gas tank of the lawn mower and squirted oil into the cylinder. When I got older and lazier I stopped doing that and lo and behold, the lawnmower still starts the first time every spring. I now wonder what other chores I can get out of. Unfortunately, Kay ( She