The pleasures of September

Jill Severn portrait

Our brief episode of sorrow about the end of summer has passed, and now it’s time to aim our sense of wonder at the pleasures of September.

Celebrations

September began with two celebrations: Harbor Days at Percival Landing, and a squirrel circus in the sunflowers. I can’t decide which was my favorite. Tugboat races and local arts, crafts and live music are wonderful. Acrobatic squirrels are hilarious.

Such talent! One young performer climbed a tall sunflower, grabbed its face with both front paws, its hind legs hanging in mid-air as the sunflower bent over from its weight. An old tune came to mind: “It swung through the air with the greatest of ease, a daring young squirrel on a flying trapeze.” Its performance lasted several minutes as it swung back and forth while stashing seeds in its cheeks. Then it landed its dismount with a small thump. The audience cheered.

The site of the squirrel circus in the sunflowers.

We thought we were growing sunflowers as a memorial for our garden friend who died last year, but the bees, chickadees, squirrels, and scrub jays had other ideas. Now, the sunflower patch is a mess.

Tomatoes

Sungold tomatoes just keep coming

On the first day of September, bite-sized Sungold tomatoes were selling briskly at the Olympia Farmers Market for $6 a pint. A man who had just shelled out $12 for two pints lamented that he had forgotten to plant Sungolds this year when he grew tomatoes in a new location in his garden. “In the old location, they reseeded themselves,” he said. “I’ll never forget to plant them again,” he vowed.

Vendors were also selling every other kind of tomato, but rarely do they know the names of the varieties they sell, which is frustrating if you have a fixation on Cherokee Purple or Black Krim and can’t reliably tell them apart without tasting them. At the Market (and in the grocery store), they’re all displayed in a pile as “heirloom” tomatoes. Still, they’re all vastly better than the tomatoes we’ll begrudgingly buy at the grocery store next February.

Those of us who planted tomatoes and are now snacking on Sungolds and serving Cherokee Purple caprese salads are feeling rather smug. Then we feel guilty about feeling smug. We also give away a lot of Sungolds, because even a single plant produces more than most families can eat.

Fall crocus

The annual fall crocus surprise.

Every year, the fall crocuses are a surprise. This year, they came out of the ground two days before August ended, ready to make the most of September. In the spring, they put up fast-growing, robust foliage, which dies back (or gets cut back) in early June. Then the summer garden drama takes over, and they are forgotten – right up until the day they show up and make us so happy to see their delicate, translucent flowers.

Many varieties are available in online garden catalogues, including the one that produces saffron. Each bulb provides a small fountain of flowers during the rest of this month.

So much fruit!

Semi-wild apples, lots of them!

It almost seems we’re surrounded: Apples are everywhere, often on trees that no one tends. Some of those trees may be from seeds no one – at least, no human – even planted. Nature can be wild.  

Years ago, friends drove around and filled the back of a pickup with the fruit of abandoned and semi-wild apple trees. The next day an apple pressing party produced many gallons of fabulous apple juice. Some were frozen, and some were turned into hard cider or vinegar.

But apples are just one element of this month’s fruit bonanza. Plums and pears are also in the trees and on the market. The farmers markets are featuring Washington-grown melons, and the newish pluots, which purport to improve on apricots and plums. And, of course, there are the many varieties of peaches, which are proof that there is a heaven and we are living in it.

Dappled sunlight

Dappled sunlight, a September treasure.

We’ve come to take the leaves on the trees for granted. It’s time to stop that. In a few months, the trees will be bare. We will no longer walk in the dappled shade of maples, alder or cottonwood. A friend who Knows These Things told me that Oregon ash trees will be the first to turn color. Just then, we drove past a grove of them well on their way to yellow.

Fortunately, the slow – but soon accelerating – drama of their fall colors will make it nearly impossible to take leaves for granted. But why wait? After this month, there are sights in the natural world we won’t see again for quite a long time, and dappled sunlight in green leaves is one of them.

Jill Severn writes from her home in Olympia, where she grows vegetables, flowers, and a small flock of chickens. She loves conversation among gardeners. Start one by emailing her at  jill@theJOLTnews.com