Gratitude Monday --Garden Goodness Edition

Harvest is one of my favourite times of the year. It's when all the work of spring and summer come to fruition. It's a busy time for most of us even if you're like me and only have a small garden in the back.
The busy time doesn't last long, but it still comes.
Yesterday Mike dug out my carrots while I brought in the coriander to ripen. I like to leave it out, but he wanted to dig over the garden. I only had a few plants as they'd grown wild this year. I harvested enough from last year's planting that I had no intention of growing any more for several years.
A few plants popped up in the carrots and beans. I let them go with the idea to take a few cilantro leaves as needed. They smelled so good I decided to leave them in.
A few potatoes grew wild as well. Mike digs compost into the garden in spring and/or fall. Quite a few random plants come up with the seeded ones. I often let them grow.
Anyway, back to the carrots. I cleaned the first batch as he dug. He cleaned the next three batches. In they are photo below
three bath towels full worth are drying and resting comfortably, unaware of their fate. The first towelfull are on the table being quickly and humanely topped and tailed.

They waited in the fridge overnight. Today they're being blanched and frozen to be enjoyed during the cold winter months.

I am grateful for a great many things: the garden, the carrots, and all the work my husband did yesterday in bringing in our harvest.

Two Sentence Tuesday -- Something New

Writing hasn't progressed much lately. I've been stuck on the synopsis for Dead Broke and it's more of a dead weight than anything. I have a workable draft ready, but haven't honed it. I think it's because I've got no pressing need for it.
Currently 16 of the 25 query letters I've sent out are on the loose, eight have garnered rejections, and one has resulted in a request for a partial. I'll be waiting a bit longer before sending out another wave and until I do the synopsis can fester to its cold, dark, heart's content.
Bound wasn't getting anywhere. I could not get a handle on it. I realized that I'd done too much set up work for it. I'm a pantser, not a planner, and all the world-building I did used up my energy.

It got one last read over before I took it out behind the hard drive and put it out of my misery.  Some of the ideas will go into my latest WIP, Harvest. 

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Here's a wee taste:

She slipped into bed and stared up at the plain ceiling. The presence was still there, sliding around the back of her neck to her throat, threatening to choke her.

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I had the disappointment of reading Mary Poppins last week. While it had some good scenes, and some good ideas like how the infant twins could talk to the birds, and how Mary Poppins understood and was loved by animals, she came across as a horrid, cold, bitch most of the time. Something wonderful would happen and as soon as it was over she would disavow all knowledge of it and as much as call her young charges liars.

She sniffed derisively a good lot of the time. It's a fine description, but it was overused to the point I wondered if she was a cokehead.

All that aside Pamela Lyndon Travers was a successful published author of several books, had a movie made out of Mary Poppins, and lived a good, long life. 

Good on her.

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Two sentences from Mary Poppins, P.L. Travers, (Harcourt, 1997)

" 'What?' said John and Barbara together in very surprised voices. 'Really? You mean they understood the Starling and the Wind and --'

'And what the trees say and the language of the sunlight and stars--of course they did. Once,' said Mary Poppins."

The language of sunlight

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Thanks for coming by and having a read. I appreciate it.

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Gratitude Monday - Food Fall

It's getting close to one of my favourite times of the year. Yeah, I love autumn, and I don't care who knows it.
One of the best bits of it is the harvest. Back on the farm we were getting ready to bring in the grain. It would be swathed about now and then left to dry until it was ready to be combined.
Today I have no grain to cut, but I have a garden in the back and my husband has a larger garden out at his mother's place. His dad has a large garden, too, and we've been getting several loads of veggies from him.
I have huge bag of yellow beans to be topped, tailed, blanched, and frozen. I collected them yesterday and will be stiff and sore for days from bending and squatting to do it. It's not something to complain about, I merely mention they exact a price.
I also have about eight dozen tomatoes of varying sizes and degrees of ripeness now crying for my attention. I see sauce in my future.
It's work now, and a bit overwhelming, but I'm happy to do it. Come the dead of winter I will be even more grateful.

Gratitude Monday - Threshold to Autumn

Today is the autumnal equinox, the day we cross the threshold to autumn.
Fall is the gathering season. The time of harvest and the collecting of the summer’s abundance and the time of shutting down for the cold sleep of winter.
Nights are cold and crisp and days a mix of sun and gray. I can feel myself slowing down and wanting to stay indoors. It’s a time for the last flurry of warm weather work before the other flurries come to drive us indoors.
I’ve always loved this time of year. Harvest on the farm was a busy, exciting time. Bringing in the grain from the field was dusty, but fulfilling. I love the smell of harvest, especially on the warm days that held an edge of frost.
I used to climb in to the grain bin and shovel the barley as it poured in through the auger from our five ton grain truck. I used to hold my hands under the shower of grain from above. It’s a rough, sensual feel.
I miss it and I miss spreading the grain around to the corners and then sitting in the big, square granary window for the next load.
Barley itches. It did not bother me then.
I miss those days, but I have my memories. They cannot be taken from me.
For the times and the memories I am grateful.

Autumn Grace

Autumn is touching the land once more with its gentle caress of changing colors.

For as sad as we may see it, the season brings the harvest. Soon the land will rest in the cold sleep of winter to be reborn in the promise of spring.