swiftly does the time go by. we've gone from tiny piglets to market weight hogs; lush pastures-unbelievably so-have given way to leaf strewn, winter ready fields; our accounts swelled over the summer, we made ever so much yogurt, and suddenly now we are making less. our boy, Linus, almost one year, gone from sweet baldy wee babe to willful loving laughing tiny person. the glory of the garden and all its wild growth given way to so many fruits: piles of squash in the basement, boxes of sweet potatoes, bags of onions, buckets of garlic. the bounty of Matt's China Gardens will see us through this coming winter season, one that will surely hurry, just as this summer, this brief year have as good as raced to their ends. so it is.

it is easy to check off a season's traditional 'milestones', if you will: a wealth of grass, tender greens, deeply sunny egg yolks, early light, ripe field corn, slow pastures, cured garlic, short light, less eggs, many apples, nodding sunflowers, haul wood, stack wood, asters here and there (and everywhere), warm days, cold nights, last tomatoes, hard frost, start eating potatoes. swift, simple and inevitable. Autumn comes down around us, first unbidden, then accepted, now welcome, familiar as it ever was.

and Today, The Beginning of Three Days of Rain: (this entry was written at The Beginning only to be published at The End of this Nor'easter) Matt brings bags and bags of tulsi and thyme from the garden, I make a fire and pumpkin cake, Andy collects all the pig fencing we put down, piece by piece over the growing season. Linus takes a few sweet steps. the past few soggy days have been restful as we ponder how much water the world can hold, make plans, put the Milkhouse books in order, play with numbers and make yogurt.

as for this pile of photos here, they start way back in the winter-remember the winter?-and bring us right up to this week. winter to fall walks and windrows.

baby's first wool hat of baby's second autumn season