September, we’ll remember

We are barely into the double digits of September, but already Fall is encroaching on the final weeks of summer. I had to pick my meager crop of green tomatoes (that is, the crop was meager not the green tomatoes – in fact, precious few of my tomatoes made it to red in their natural habitat) to dodge the frost warning. The jury is still out on whether they will ripen prior to rotting.

Then there are the birds. A huge flock of black birds has been relaxing in the trees for the past few days, swooping randomly around the island making a sound like a helicopter taking off. I first thought they were solid black but they also have a band of bluish purple around their necks. Purple martins maybe but maybe too big. Anyhow, there were dozens of them but now they have moved on in a southerly direction. Another thing that’s moved south is the water temperature (on the thermometer, that is). Last week the lake was still on the good side of bearable and then bam: see you next Spring.

The cats are in full chow down for winter mode. I could feed them every five minutes and they would still be yelling for more. The cure for this is to feed them every five minutes.

However, the hijacking of September does not mean it is time to throw in the cottage towel just yet. That would just be rewarding the weather for its behaviour. But it is perhaps time to concede defeat to the things that could have, might have, possibly have gotten done this summer but never will.

For example, I did not sew my needlepoint into cushions. In my own defense, the needlepoint part has been completed for some time now, it was just waiting for a sewing machine to show up. The sewing machine did indeed show up in May. It is a marvel to behold: it does stitches I never knew existed, it threads the needle itself (if I could only figure out how), and it has a built-in button hole feature. It also has a manual as thick as a brick. But maybe I’ll rally forth and knuckle down in October. It could happen.

There is a set of Siamese twin Muskoka chairs (the kind joined in the middle by a shared table) languishing in a state of partial assembly. I was very gung ho at the beginning of this project (which, to be honest, began about six years ago). I painted each piece before starting to put them together, I got the chair parts almost finished before I realized I messed up and ended up with places screws needed to go but no predrilled holes. So this year I was going to drag them out of the overgrowth that has sprung up around them, power wash them, repaint them, drill holes where holes are required, and be done with it. Maybe there is still time before the snow flies…

Yet again, I did not make a quinoa salad and I even have quinoa in the cupboard (anyone know how many years you can keep quinoa?). I think I will draw a firm line in the sand on this one: quinoa you are dead to me. And September, you are on notice. Unless you pull your socks up you are dead to me too.

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