weekend, fall

We have now lived in Mississippi for a year. I know this because K. and I saw the pumpkin patch at the Episcopalian church in Oxford last week; hey, I said. That was here when we moved down here.

And here it is again.

October is a fine time in Mississippi. As I type this, the sky shines bright blue with no humidity, the doors are open and it's a touch chilly, cool enough so that I'm wearing a sweater and sipping K's homemade butternut squash soup. If tonight's like last night, we'll be glad of the extra duvet on our bed and we'll sleep in t-shirts to hold heat close to our chests.

Our fall garden is in and-- with the exception of the newbie brussel sprouts, who haven't done much-- thriving. 18 broccoli plants, 18 cauliflower plants, a bed of turnips, and a bed of mustard greens. I went out just now and ate one. They're delicious so young, tender and not yet bitter, but still spicy. If the brussel sprouts take off, we will eat them the way K. loves (cribbed from my Silver Spoon cookbook): boiled a wee bit, just to make them tender, then sauteed in butter, sprinkled with salt, pepper, and a touch of nutmeg, and then doused in grated Parmesan. Mmmm mmmm good.

I've got a big date with pillow forms, fabric, and my new scissors for tomorrow, while K. will be at the building as usual. There's a band playing downtown in the park tomorrow evening, and Sunday-- well, we don't make plans beyond church for Sundays, but I have a feeling that the two pumpkins on our porch might be meeting the sharp side of a knife.

I don't think I've ever been so glad to leave summer behind.