An Iowa Garden

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We've had an unusually mild autumn... until now. Today the wind has roared and blustered from the north, blowing through the dry fields of corn, rattling and shredding the stalks and sailing brown chunks across the roads and lawns, bouncing along as if they are trying to follow the warm air to the south. Low 20's tonight, they say, which means the abrupt end of much of the garden for this year. I used to rush about frantically, covering plants with all manner of blankets, pots and buckets. No more; I say that I've just matured as a gardener, and now live with the seasons. However, it may be that I just would rather sit in front of a toasty fireplace and eat chips... I may live with the seasons now, but I spend a good part of the winter in Mexico.

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