The date is important. We all know that. Indeed, anyone over 21 years old  can’t help but remember: September 11, 2001 was seared into our brains and hearts, to produce massive cultural PTSD. And yet, somehow, those of us who were not completely paralyzed kept going. Somehow, we found the will to believe in the future, despite that it looked on that day, very dark. And here we are, 21 years later, the future looking dark again! In fact, time and again, ghastly events occur, and especially, ghastly predictions made — and yet we who are pioneering another way of life — or I should say, we who are re-membering an ancient, regenerative, resilient way of life — wherein people are connected to both each other and the earth under our feet — continue to set goals, to cooperate, to grow food, to feel grateful, to care. 

Autumn is that time of year when we look back, in nostalgia, upon all we have done or didn’t get done. This year, our gardens have been abundant, with plenty to go around to both ourselves, nearby neighbors, and a local food pantry. 

But “all good things come to an end.” Not quite yet, but soon, as these shriveling tomato vines can attest, while fruiting one more time.

There are lots of peppers out there now, and squashes of various types, and a few weeks ago, after harvesting our spectacular cabbages, we prepared that bed and reseeded it with arugula, plus left over lacinato kale seedlings. The arugula is now ready, and terrific in salads!

Meanwhile, the Siberian kale is as hardy as ever, growing with some curly kale.

In the backyard of the Overhill house, the platform for the new 12-foot yurt is (finally) about to manifest (and we’re debating taking that old red barn down) . . .

The yurt has been sitting in its original boxes on the screened in porch, ever since April . . .

Hope to show it standing on its beautiful new platform by the time I do next Sunday’s post!