The heat is subsiding and the days are shorter. The dog days of summer have departed. Nights are almost cold, mid 40’s. Time to explore the roadside stands. The fruits of summer are on stands in the Valley.
No longer is the produce hauled by the rick. The stand has been by the road for over a half century. The family still goes out and digs in the dirt and bring their goods to market. There are some things that will always remain the same. Dig in the dirt, put some seeds in, add some water, pull the weeds, harvest and there are rewards for hard work.
Ever since recorded time man has tilled the soil for his livelihood.
The colors of fall are very distinctive.
Whether they harvest is for decoration or function. Fall is the theme of cool crisp air. No longer is there the fresh smell of burning leaves. Store the fruits of summer away in a cool place and the fruits will last through the winter.
Man is at the basic with nature. No aspirations of control for nature has the rhythm one has to follow. The pulse of life moves at its pace
The drought continues. The ground is parched. The pocket book feeling pinched. weeds are brown. Dirt is powder. Dust swirls into the air. Prayers for a snowy winter.