Day Late, Dollar Short

fall harvest from new apple sapling (later turned into a pie), cucumbers incl, the kids tell me, “a baby,” one bean from Virginia Woolf’s garden (saving for seeds)

I’m late due to repasts, and isn’t that the best reason? It’s Thanksgiving weekend in Canada. Ours is less colonial than in the US, mostly a secular holiday marking the end of summer, the coming end of harvest (see our dregs, above), where we’ll eat hearty and forget the fact that we’ll need all the canned goods we put up in the heat of August to bide us through the long, wet and sometimes powerless, winter.

As always, even as our summer continued with my first-ever outdoor Thanksgiving without jackets necessary (endless summer, or as the trees like to say, endless drought). Tonight we’re scheduled to have our first windstorm, with, perhaps, some of those unhappy trees coming down.

Wishing you the best weeks possible in your circumstances. Fight fight fight the powers-that-be. Covid and monkeypox are still things, and more and more people are recognizing that the best ways around how terribly sick folks are getting is to not catch them to begin with. It’s a tragic time in BC where I live–with fully 1/3 of hospital patients, disabled all, thrown out into their own devices so more worthy new (younger, more abled) patients can take their places. For shame, BC.