I have a strong love-hate relationship with fall. In some ways it’s my favourite season, what with the brilliant colours and crisp fresh air. But with autumn also comes a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach because I know winter is soon to follow. And ironically for someone who lives in the Canadian North, I do not like winter. Not in the least.
So the task I have given myself this week is to stay focussed on the now of fall and not get ahead of myself with the seasons. I’m decommissioning my garden bit by bit and have to keep telling myself not to imagine it in a month from now, when more than likely it will be snow covered. I’m squirrelling away foraged/hunted/fished bounty without letting myself dwell on the fact that it will probably be the dead of winter when I next see some of this stuff in a pot or on a plate. And as the thermometer dips to near freezing these nights, I refuse to let myself acknowledge that in an all too short while, I will be yearning for temperatures as mild as these.