I think it happens every year, but this year was…more so. Just like that, summer wraps to a close. The first day of autumn is imminently approaching. The fall cow work is well underway. The garden is producing like there is no tomorrow, but every tomorrow arrives with more produce than I can keep up with.

Soon I’ll wean Posey’s calves and start milking again, a slow rhythm I am looking forward to. I’ve missed the hour in the morning with my head leaned against her warm flank, listening to the milk singing into the pail, taking in the sweet smells of cow and milk and hay.

Soon, though maybe not for another month or so, the garden will take a frost and officially come to an end for the year. But planning next year has already begun and the anticipation will only grow. It is a sweet occupation for the middle of winter!

But for now, there is more than enough to do, more than enough to occupy. The summer isn’t completely gone and what time is left is precious.

When I walked down this evening to close the greenhouse and lock up my chickens, the moon, huge and red, was just clearing the horizon and losing itself in a bank of clouds from an incoming thunderstorm. Lightning flickered in the south and a little thunder rolled in the distance. Rain is just now starting to plink musically against the windows. Summer is almost gone. But not quite.