They want tonight to dip into the thirties. Tomorrow they want frost. I hope the pumpkins hold their own. They're starting to turn a loud orange and I can not hide my shit-faced grin everytime I see them. This is the best crop of pumpkins I have ever grown, some so large I doubt I'll be able to pick them up without help.
Anyway, this cold streak—it's a fluke early bite. By Tuesday night the weather report has nights back in the fifties again. Regardless, it'll inspire most Vermonters to continue stacking wood and ordering winter fuels. I'll be filling up the cabin's oil tank and am stacking up my second cord of firewood, just dropped off today. Someday I'll be on all woodheat and electric, but for now my rented cabin has a 275-gallon oil tank to keep the place snug and pipes from freezing when the nights drop below 0. I can't believe it's time to fill up already... Fall is certainly at our doorstep. That's a fact no longer up for discussion. I am thrilled to welcome him home.
I bought a new black and white checkered flannel shirt on my lunch break. There is nothing quite as glorious as a new flannel shirt on a crisp night outside. It's a men's medium and literally comes down to my knees, but it is so soft and warm. It's like being wrapped up in someone's arms. Soon as I pulled into the farm I changed right there in the driveway, and did my evening chores wrapped in it. I didn't even need a jacket.
I have 330 feet of field fence in the back of the pick up and hopefully I'll get it up tomorrow so the sheep will finally have a fence I can be proud of. I put up the last fence by myself but that cheap garden wire but it's nearly falling apart. The hot mess is being held together by bailing twine and luck. I put up that monster alone, (but those cheap welded wire rolls didn't need to be loaded into the back of a truck with a forklift...) so I'm hoping some friends come to help tomorrow. My friend James did offer to help next weekend, so maybe fence-redux will be postponed till then. I'll play it by ear.
Some friends invited me out for drinks but I don't think I'll be heading into town tonight. Between the long work week, a stalking fox, and the promise of a warm fire I think I'll be in for the night. (I blame the shirt.) It's one of those nights where you pull the dulcimer off the mantle and mindlessly pluck away at it while you watch a favorite movie. Tonight I'll watch Cold Mountain. If my father was visiting he'd demand an apple cake be baking on a night like this. If I had some apples, I would, just for the aromatherapy of it all.
photo by sarah stell