Sonntag, 25. September 2016

End of Season

First Sunday of Autumn
The last few roses are bravely putting on a last show of summer color....

... defying the cooler days and chilly nights.

It is time now for fall colors....

... even if they aren't forest grown or handmade.

And some cheesecake for what was probably our last grill of the year.  It was a fine evening and the cheesecake was much approved - a new recipe with fluffy egg whites - though it didn't look like much (so I added a fruit mix on top for color). 

The bunnies and ponies are getting fluffy, too.

And we brought in our pretty, big pumpkins. I started 15 sturdy plants from saved seeds,  of which a dozen were planted first and promptly eaten by slugs. The next three went into pots and turned into one pumpkin, one long orange squash and one round green squash - oh, well: variety. Then we found three volunteers growing on the manure pile, and those grew into these lovely big treasures. Think of the soup and pies.

Tomorrow may see some continuation of art projects.

Blessings on your Sunday.


  1. Yum! I like pumpkin pie, but I don't remember if I ever tried pumpkin soup... I suppose it wouldn't be very different from other squash soups, although I haven't eaten those often enough to remember quite how they taste.

    And those roses are just lovely!

  2. The compost pile always grows the very best squash and pumpkins! I plant them in the garden (well, not any more... I used to, but gave up) and the squash bugs and vine borers have a joyful feast. But the volunteers in the manure are immune to bugs and turn out amazing. The only problem is that with the cross pollination of whatever happens to be in the pile, you never know what you are going to get.

    Also, the mention of soup (yummy!) reminds me of my Grandma telling me that she made pumpkin soup (from canned pumpkin) every Saturday for lunch and that Grandpa hated it and she did it anyway. Grandpa shook his head and made a face and it cracked me up to think that they had been married over 50 years and yet she fed him something he hated every week?