You know it’s autumn in the Northwest when…
Roses resemble wet tissues.
Hammocks allow for drop-ins.
Tarps reach new architectural heights.
Tomatoes give up the ghost.
All eyes are on fresh-baked pies.
Wood is wet and tarps too few.
Sweet corn saves itself for an October plate.
And the leaves of summer signal winter’s long sleep with fiery goodbye.
What I was blogging about a year ago: Turning a New Leaf on Chard