Wednesday was the last day of summer. We knew it at the time, but Thursday made it clear. Today the sky is full of rain and chill and I wish already that we had a woodstove.

There might be more heat and sun left for us this year, but fall has brushed off her skirts and stepped up to the stage. The first leaves are turning, the pumpkins are orange, the melons are doomed.

We're circling in on our plans for next year. We bought a baby tractor last week - a BCS, ten years old, but in good shape and for a steal - along with tiller, brush hog, mower and snowblowing attachments. We've got an arrangement set up to use an acre of land just down the road, and we're trying to figure out the best way to prepare it - a farmer friend of ours suggested a moldboard plow, which surprised me, as I thought they'd mostly fallen out of favor. But he's a good farmer on similar soil, so maybe he's right. We're going to solicit a few other opinions before we get going, but the pasture needs to be mowed firstly no matter what (but the mower needs to be fixed up a bit before that).

We've been a little overwhelmed of late with trying to sort out all the pieces we need for next year, and this year's garden has been a bit neglected as a result. The onions and winter squash need to be pulled soon, and we need to find somewhere to keep them. Ditto potatoes. I meant to plant fall peas, but now I think it's too late. The straw we mulched the pathways with was full of poison parsnip seeds. The fall carrots never really germinated and we never really noticed. Late blight finally got us, and we spent much of Wednesday pulling out tomatoes. But altogether I think we did a fine job this season, and while I'm not exactly looking forward to the frost, I might be just a little bit relieved that fall is here, even though it means I have to hunt through all the closets to find my wool hat.