The month is a time to tuck in the loose ends of summer, all those little jobs no one wanted to do because of summer heat
No more cucumbers wilting in the corner of the kitchen. No more colanders of raw green relish oozing juice. No more stray tomato seeds pasted to the kitchen window. No more apple jelly stuck to the tiles. No preserving jars crowding the counters. No mysterious noises betraying imperfect seals. No big awkward kettles to empty and wash, just bright green pickles and golden peaches and purple plums in sealers tucked away on cool basement shelves. A kitchen gloriously free of all canning reminders — that’s October.
No tangled pea vines mildewing in the garden. No yellow escapees gloating over their freedom in the cucumber patch. No withered corn stalks chiding one another in the wind. Just a square black garden plot waiting neither for weeds nor seeds but resting in a job well done — that’s October.
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No hot humid days stifling ambition. No searing winds to shrivel growth. No thunder and lightning to alarm the timid. Just fall rains polishing pumpkins and shining autumn leaves.
Yes, October gives me a new lease on life.
April is fraught with unpredictable weather. May is consumed by seeding and June is crammed with activities at church and community. July brings the upheaval of holidays, August the hectic pace of harvest and September the readjustment to normal routine.
But then comes October — a time to tuck in the loose ends of summer.
All those little jobs I wanted to get done but hated doing because of the heat still wait for me, things like painting the trim on the house, enlarging a flower bed, stocking the freezer for the winter, washing the windows. It’s also the month I finally get around to replacing the foam weather stripping around the doors.
October is also the last available month to travel before the snow flies (at least where I live) and the landscape is restful after the hectic pace of summer.
Machinery stands idle, lined up at the edge of prairie farmyards. Cattle rest on the hillsides, taking advantage of the last warm rays of sunshine. Ponies graze peacefully in their paddocks. A few short weeks and they could be huddled together trying to withstand a driving snowstorm.
Speaking of snow, October is the time I clean out the back closet and put away all the accumulation of summer. Sandals, straw hats, and garden odds and ends are toted down to the basement, only to be replaced by heavy sweaters, overshoes, the sack of mittens, birdseed, and snow scrapers.
If nothing else, October seems to be the month for eating. Community halls bulge with crowds for the annual fall suppers. Thanksgiving tables sag under the weight of meaty big birds, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pies. Teenagers make recurring visits to the family fridge. Little kids come home after a night of trick or treating with loot bags filled to capacity.
It just seems that appetites jaded by a steady diet of summer salads begin to perk up come October. Chili and stew and baked beans are the order of the day. Cocoa and hot popcorn are reinstated as evening snacks. A big bowl of porridge seems to fit the bill every morning.
My mother always claimed she gained weight in October and blamed it on the brisk autumn air. Like birds getting ready to migrate, or bears preparing for hibernation, maybe nature intends us to put on an extra layer of fat to tide us over the lean winter months. It’s as good an excuse as any to indulge in nature’s bounty.
Giving a bit of time to rest and reflect, I suppose October could be called the Sabbath of the soul.
