gold

Last dish put away, leftovers from Saturday’s meal stored. Outside, the rain comes down in that steady stream that looks never ending. Nothing fierce, just constant.

We take the car for an afternoon coffee. Past gray skies and golden fields of harvest ready soy.




They say fall colors aren’t coming to this part of Wisconsin for several weeks yet. Nonsense. There’s the soy, of course. And at the farmette, we have the very last crop almost ready for Ed’s fruit picker.





Watching the green turn to gold is remarkably satisfying. We ignore what comes next: the brown months. No one I know likes the brown months.