Embrace the Plate

We’ve been so spoiled with a long, warm September and early October. It’s still crispy dry out here, but the turning of the leaves is absolutely stunning, even if it doesn’t automatically mean I’m finding shaggy make mushrooms. Our garden was afflicted by so much frost, but we’ve had generous neighbours and friends who have shared their bounty with us. Grouse and geese are plentiful this fall, and this past weekend we arm-wrestled the bears for the last of the rose hips (they got most of them). No matter how late it might begin, the first crisp mornings always seem to sneak up on me. One day I’m gathering armfuls of herbs for the dehydrator, the next I’m reaching for my wool sweater and watching the steam rise from the kettle while frost coats the garage roof and mist drifts across the low spots. The dying plants echo in my heart with the mini-death I always feel when the growing season ends. It’s a letting go, getting quiet. Fall has a way of reminding us to slow down, to tuck away th...