21 August 2013 - Fall with a thud

Ever thought about just when or how you know fall starts? It might be when the leaves turn, or maybe when the air gets crisp. For some people, I suppose, the big signal is when kids go back to school, or maybe even the big Labor Day sales. Most likely it is different for everyone. 

This year the fall equinox is on September 22. Sure, that's when all the planets line up and night and day are equal, but I have my own baraometer- a series of events that point me to fall--or maybe not full fledged fall, but the end of summer beginning of fall.  Crickets, for example. While they start chirping in July, by late August the chorus has swelled to an amazing din. And after full dark, the sound changes from being in perfect sync to a new cadence. I don't know why that happens, but it signals the change to fall for me. 

Another big sign for me are the plums and crab apples. We have one of each of these trees and our aluminum canoe is stored underneath them. 

As the fruit ripens, it falls with a distinct thud onto the canoe. In the evening when the canyon winds swirl down, the thudding is unmistakeable. It calls for some domestic goddess activity such as jamming or jelly.  This year it was plum jam. Last year? Crab apple jelly. 

These plums turn the most gorgeous magenta when cooked. 

The pear tree is loaded this year, and even though many are falling, they swish gently into the myrtle, rather than landing with a thud. 

The beginning of fall is quite sneaky. You'll notice a couple yellow leaves  in a tree, or a fallen leaf full of red. 

You look up and wonder why just this one leaf has color when the rest of the leaves are still bright green. 

Or like today, the sun was low in the west and the light hit the pyracantha in a way that made the berries glow. When did they turn orange?  Just a couple days ago the shrubs were full of grosbeak kids eating the still greenish berries. Sneaky. 

Tomatoes. The start of fall is when we get overwhelmed with tomatoes. I am currently eating thick slices of tomato on toast for breakfast, lunch and dinner. And sometimes with a slice of melted cheese for a snack in between meals. Am I keeping up?  Uh, no. This is the bottom eight inches of a 6 foot tall plant. The entire six feet is covered with tomatoes like this.  I should mention there are 12 tomato plants out there. Where is my canning buddy when I need him?