September’s Arrival
Oh, for the days of spoiled abandon. Those lazy summer days when the sun makes movement slow to a crawl and people think unambitious thoughts. Those days when vacations are just beginning and the possibilities for filling the unstructured time seem as vast as the Pacific. Summer. That time in our childhood when we eagerly burst out of classrooms that held us captive during the school year and are free until summer comes too quickly to an end.
By late September, summer begins to wear a sense of urgency on her face. Dawn comes up later. Days darken earlier. Until finally, the length of night catches daylight unaware and becomes her equal, signaling the first day of autumn. From that moment which marks the autumnal equinox, until the winter solstice late in December, there is increasingly less daylight in which to do all that must be done in a day's time.
And so it is that we grow up living the fable of the grasshopper and the ant. By late September, our internal sense of industry kicks in, urging us to store up provender for the long winter months ahead. Outside we begin to adjust our bodies to the sudden crispness that fills the fall air. The reds and golds, on the autumn landscape flutter out their warning— "Get out to the garden while there is still time, lazy grasshoppers. Time is running out.”
When I had a vast garden at Boomerang Creek, come September and the worker ant in me was busy with fall chores day in and day out. Roma tomatoes were still being harvested from pots on our porch. Here in the Sierra Foothills I stock up on Roma tomatoes at local markets. If I lived in Tuscany, I would dry them outdoors for several days in the warm Mediterranean sun. Here, I cut them in half and arrange them cut face up in a shallow baking pan, drizzle the lot with olive oil and balsamic vinegar, sprinkle with Kosher salt, and slow roast them in a 250˚ oven for two hours.
Over the Labor Day weekend, I dipped into the basket of local crisp tart apples that I purchased at a market in Nevada City to add to muffins that I make for the staff at Kit’s lodge every Saturday. Apple cranberry muffins with honey yogurt, walnuts, lemon zest and crumbles on top. The possible combinations are endless and they are always a treat both for me to make and for the amazing folks who care for Kit day in and day out.
My small basil crop is ready to be cut and turned into a pesto. Unlike rosemary and thyme, basil leaves don’t dry well. But they can easily be transformed into a pesto that can be stored for use in the months to come when blended with pine nuts, garlic, grated Parmesan cheese, and olive oil. My neighbor Carol Lee puts her pesto in ice trays and freezes the cubes to be used one at a time over the months that follow September.
After a summer of hearty growth, rosemary and thyme plants that thrive in large clay pots in our potager (porch kitchen garden) need to be harvested, dried, stripped from their stems and stored in kitchen jars. This is a seasonal autumn exercise that is joyous in the doing and will provide delicious additions to savory dishes prepared throughout the coming winter months. If you are a fan of Yoplait’s Oui yogurt, the reusable glass jars are perfect for storing dried herbs. Bamboo lids for the jars are available online.
Over the Labor Day weekend, hardware stores and garden shops set out colorful displays of fall plants, and few customers leave without at least one pot of mums in their cart. Call it Indian summer, fall, or autumn. Whatever name and activities you attach to September, change is most certainly in the air.