October 30

The first hard frost arrived overnight, showing itself in the coming light of dawn with tomato and pepper leaves now curled and burned looking. The ground around is feathery white and crunches beneath the boot, dog’s paws also shuffling with crackling noises amid frozen leaf fall and autumn grass which are highlighted in white.

As the dogs pad onward, little puffs of steam are visible from their nose and mouth with each outward breath, and they remind me of small steam engines giving off white clouds as they move ahead.

The hard frost is late this year, but it has arrived nonetheless, and now the growing season is officially at an end. So too are the hordes of insects, so evident only a few weeks ago as background noises of all sorts; now there is only silence in the morning. It is unsettling after so much life, and we must grow accustomed again to this phase of quiet, awaiting the long stretch that allows all life to recharge and renew.