There are a few days left of summer but I am wearing socks again. During the day the inside of the house is colder than the outside. At night the outside air is so cold I worry about the plants, even though there is no predicted frost. Long johns have already made their way onto the clothesline.

Our mantis is still calling the pole bean vines home. Last year I put off the end-of-season field mowing because of a praying mantis. It seems to have worked. This year I postpone removal of the spent vines because of one. The heron has been back, stalking the field. Today I watched through binoculars as he caught a mouse in his sharp beak, shaking his head firmly to stun it. After he swallowed it the lump in his long neck wriggled.

Whenever I enter the west side of the flower garden forget-me-not seed clings to my wool sweater. The crickets are growing quiet at night. They start chirping in the morning when I carry out the baskets of winter squash to cure on warm stones. The potatoes still need digging. The kale needs to be harvested and processed. There is soap to be made.

Though there is work to be done, time is suspended. I will amend the plots when the leaves begin to fall. I will plant garlic in October. For now I keep an eye on the seeds, the mantis, the heron, and the sun -watching as it creeps closer every time it kisses the horizon.