This year the garden has been a wreck. It is little and cold comfort that the neighbors are in the same boat. I remember last year thinking how beautiful and bountiful the garden was and how I hoped it wasn't a fluke. And while I do not believe that we are in for this sort of destitution every year, I am having a hard time being optimistic about future prospects.

The corn is beautiful though isn't it? I hope it is all okay out there. We got hit pretty hard by Ike. (Yes, I know, I'm in Illinois, who would have though?) Our entire neighborhood and who knows how many other houses had the drains in our basements surge water until we were all standing in up to a foot. Some people had more. There has even been talk about renting a neighborhood dumpster just to get rid of all the ruined stuff.

Needless to say I haven't felt like wading out to the corn to see how it's doing but I'm betting it's not doing well. I think it will be fine though as long as the water drains off today.

Overall it's been a melancholy few days. Fall is whispering in and that is always a strange and reflective time for me. The smell of mothballs and old clothes that wafted out from closet behind grandpa's front door as he fished out his blue jacket and hat. The taste of coffee he diluted with creamer and sugar (I still drink it this way). The crunching of leaves underfoot. The tilling and quieting of the garden earth for the winter.

I will be watching the popcorn and dreaming of spring, and possibilities.