Between the morning dew and the sun, which has dropped below the tree line, my lawn never dries out. After Labor Day it is perpetually slick making it an ideal home for slugs that slither and frogs that hop between clumps of slowly growing greenery. The strands of grass are bent over, rarely able to straighten up over the course of the day.
We need to hang clothing out early on the line, right after breakfast. The sun rises over our neighbor's house shining a spot light on where the clothing sits but by noon much of the line is in the shade, retarding progress. The soil is moist on the top and the sweet smell of rot begins to fill the backyard.
As we approach the equinox, the waning light governs all the growth and ripening. Tomatoes stay greener longer giving its predators a large selection of unripe fruit to choose from. Every day as I look to harvest food for lunch and dinner, I find portions of tomatoes nibbled on and discarded as would a spoiled child who wants a single bite or two of everything.
The beans are not getting enough light to flower but continue to spiral around the stakes. The cucumbers have ample flowers though its leaves have started to yellow, marking the end of its days. Some spinach I planted in mid-August was put into the soil too late and struggles to get any larger than tiny first leaves.
Even though it is still Summer, the grounds have a distinctive Fall feeling. Early leaves have dropped, geese are practicing flying in V formation, and the monarchs have started their migration. The monarchs and I visited Fire Island this past weekend. They flittered all around the island and could be spotted along the beach. They are the laggard butterflies of the season taking their red and black bodies down south. But my work of the changing season is beginning and I cannot lag as much of my garden is ending as time accelerates by.