Oct. 22, 2013
The Jetta was covered with frost again this morning. Dave left it out by the gravel driveway overnight. My car, on the other hand, snoozed in the relatively warm
It's interesting how sounds change with the seasons. Gravel returns a sharper, deeper crunch under my tires, and the wind finds new cracks around the car windows as the temperature drops.
It was just after 6 a.m. and 31o when I started my daily commute from the farm into St. Paul, Minn. The first thousand feet dipped from the house to the
road, passing our fenced-in garden on the west. It was still pitch dark, and although I knew they were there, I couldn't make out the young fruit trees, the now-shriveled raspberry canes, or the row
of immature gooseberries and elderberries. It was still a good 40 minutes till daylight, but as I slowly rolled by the garden fence, my headlights easily found the pale yellow straw mounded on one of
the long raised beds.
It's cold and only going to get colder as we move into November, December and bone-chilling January. That straw blanket will protect the 300 cloves of garlic snuggled three
inches into the soil.
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