The Sun Sets Behind The Mountain At 6

The sun sets behind the mountain at 6:00 pm now, and the garden goes dismal. It’s amazing to me how significant sunlight is to the beauty of what we behold. The bright light is cheering to our emotional mood, and brings more joy than it has a right to. The colors move me to appreciation in depths that elude me. I think that when I realized that we don’t need colors to survive, they became like gifts for us to enjoy, and I started being enchanted by their presence. I moved on to shadows, the antithesis of color. They are attached to everything we see and are constantly moving, ever changing, never the same and somehow very significant. I guess they remind me of time passing, and that makes me somber.

Your pumpkins should be ready to harvest. I learned that cutting the hole in the bottom instead of the top allows you to light the candle without burning your hand, and let’s you cut the opening at an angle to make the jack-o’-lantern level. October begins the holiday season with Oktoberfest kicking off the celebrations. We all need something to look forward to in the dreary days of winter and planning the gatherings can take our minds off the inclement weather. Sitting in my greenhouse on cold rainy days is preferable to me, because my memory is so full of joyful experiences that they overlap each other, and get hidden from consciousness. Being still always unveils brand new memories that trigger a cascade of remembrances, and I relive the joys of the past. I’m overwhelmed at the fact that our brains can store so many images and feelings, with no conscious effort on our part.

I pulled up the last squash plant yesterday, it was a zucchini, and yes gloves were required. The prickly hairs that form to keep slugs and sow bugs from being able to eat the tender stems turn into thorns that keep omnivores from devouring them. The thorns easily puncture skin and are hard to see when you try to pry them out with a needle. The open space it left behind is huge, but I enjoy it. All the open spaces from plants coming out are connecting, and giving me a view of the garden that has been gone all summer. The expansiveness is something I’ve seemed to miss. I liked the jungle look, but am now happy with the bare bones structure look. As I move my chair around, seeking sometimes shade and sometimes sun, I have discovered that every different angle of view contributes a brand new set of thoughts as to what needs doing.

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