Its October already and I can almost see the Calendar pages flip in slow motion as we head down the road to the Holidays.  The Canadian honkers loudly make their presence known as they stop to rest in our many waterways, and by 3 o’clock the afternoon is punctuated by the squealing of brakes and the creaking of the school bus doors as they hiss open and young folks tumble out, papers gripped tightly in hand, high voices pitched out into the warm autumn air, and backpacks slung casually over their shoulders. 

     As I stare out the window of the new house on a grey dimly lit Sunday, it’s a different panorama that lies before me than that which I viewed from the windows of the old home I loved, and what has now become the Garden Cottage.  There I could almost see the Pacific Ocean.  Now the view is of the backside of Bunker Hill, so named as the slough that wends its way in the valley below used to house huge bunkers full of coal.  Large ships would back up the slough to the bunkers to fill up with coal before their return journey to the port of San Francisco.  Now thick pine forest is slashed by clear cut, with a road leading upwards to what one presumes will soon become another housing development. 

     This year’s garden was very odd.  With the increased drought situation, one has been hesitant to water too much, as who knows how much water there is in the well, and as many folks have found out the hard way, it might not be very much.  The berries did very well, red currants were abundant, raspberries were consumed by the basket full, and strawberries are still producing.  On the other hand, tomatoes were a bust.  Not only were they felled by early blight, they then went on to do well only to be cut down by late blight, despite spraying with Bordeaux mix, isolation, and growing in pots.    The only two that did well were of a Russian variety called Mars.  Oh well, I guess you have to take the good with the bad.