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Postcards From the Edge of Autumn

Postcards From the Edge of Autumn

Fall colors fade fast in the Pacific Northwest, but I can always count on my Glenora grape leaves to stick around. (The grapes are another story.)

With Autumn storms come fallen branches, a sure sign that my madrona branch fence will grow in the weeks to come. (Boz caught in the act of eating baby corn cobs; he’s such a connoisseur.)

Where others see pumpkins, I see soup and gratin, pies and custard.

Boz knows when the Fourth of July bunting comes down in October, time on the porch is fleeting.

And what better reminder that sun and warmth will return, than the lone stalks of sunflowers dotting the fields.


  1. Clearly we need to consider building a branch fence. If this winter is anything like last, we’ll have enough material by the end of the season! Besides, I think it’s quite beautiful. As are all your glorious images of fall. On the winter squash front though, you forgot the ravioli! 😉

  2. BWWAAA! I am so stinkin’ homesick for the Pacific Northwest and home looks incredibly beautiful right now. Even still, you had me laughing with the 4th of July bunting coming down in October. Pray tell, are Christmas lights going up soon? By the way, I could follow suit and post the signs of fall in Tucson, but it would be the shortest post in history. We do have red pomegranates though and the ocotillo is yellow…oh, and October weather finally arrived yesterday. It was under 85. LOL

  3. BEAUTIFUL postcards, Tom! Since we live on a 58-acre conifer tree farm, I sometimes long to see the COLOR of Autumn that I was used to in the South. Green is still nice though!

  4. “Galeux d’Eysines recipes” produced your blog. I love your place! Meghan Daum’s new book (on hold for me at the library) is “Life Would Be Perfect If I Lived in That House.” My 1922 farmhouse sirened me in 1985. That’s when I started planting and haven’t stopped. “Working” dawn to dusk in my creative playground, I enjoy weaving tapestries of color and form. Each year new projects present themselves. If I lived in that house, I mused, back in 1985. And yet….disease, injury and death lie in wait for friends, relatives, ourselves. Love dissolves. Friends move away. We’re old enough to know better. Too grounded, though, not to keep creating. I just returned from friends in France; they live in the least populated area of the country, an idyllic village of 11 stone houses just west of the Pyrenees. After several trips, they found themselves in possession of an 1827 relic. They fed me tomatoes, basil, olive oil, chevre and gallons of wine in the autumn sun. Perfect. Yet Pete has Parkinson’s; Xander gets bored. I came to the Northwest from Wisconsin in 1980, trading tornadoes for a volcano. I thought I’d found Nirvana. Maybe you have. After five years, though, despite women (and men?) proffering invitations, you’re still alone with the doggies. How do you make ends meet? How do you resist the lonely dark?

  5. Hi Jan, Without sounding like Obi Wan Kenobi or like someone who has enough experience or knowledge to impart wisdom, I only know what speaks to me.

    I am happiest when not comparing, most content when I follow my voice and not others. If I could trade my life with someone else, I would be at loss. For another’s life would not include the gifted friends and cherished family that encircle and nurture me now. The day would not begin under the shade of a maple or with the snore of a bulldog. No one’s life is perfect, and mine is no exception. No one has all the answers, and I choose to write and share what makes me happy. Don’t mistake that for a worry-free life or days without sadness. Life really is a journey, and the beauty of it is how I wish to live each moment, how I wish to touch the lives around me without seeking anything in return. Love has no ledger, happiness no debits or credits. It is both immediate and fleeting, and our tasks as humans is to either work through the bad stuff and seek a better day, or give up. Choose the better day, appreciate the gifts of the present. Embrace the kind hearts present in your life and honor those no longer with us, and most of all be kind to yourself.

  6. I stop by your blog most every morning, to see where you last left your coffee cup or to learn of the inevitable consequences of a chore left undone. But mostly for a little bit of sunshine to start my day. You are a good man Tom, always have been.

  7. I am in awe of your fence and the pic of the sunflower is stunning. I love your ode to the seasons and life.

    chow! Devaki @ weavethousandflavors

    PS – Can I grow one of your trellis pots in bleak wintery weather on the patio? 🙂

  8. “Choose the better day, appreciate the gifts of the present”. You said it beautifully. Sometimes it gets lost, but I try to remind myself of that daily. And thank you for the enjoyment I receive from reading your thoughts on Tall Clover Farm.

  9. You said it perfectly, Eileen!! Tom, did you know Eileen and I grew up in the same place and went to the same schools? Of course, I will admit, I graduated many, many years before her.

    • Susan, what a small world. I’ve always wanted to visit the Amana Colonies. Makes sense that two awesome women would come from such a place. 😉

  10. “Love has no ledger.” Brilliant. I say what we focus on expands. And you, dear man, seem to have a gift for finding such beauty by your simple yet powerful ability to focus to the joy around you. Keep up the good work & words.


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