Still on the farm, harvest has been crazy but is beginning to mellow somewhat. The toads, alas, are becoming scarcer, and surely this is the deepest root of all autumn melancholy.

The harvest rolls on apace, however. Our compost heap is full of beautiful tomatoes and melons such as you cannot purchase in stores. The tomatoes especially are a heartbreak: gorgeous striped psychedelic orange and yellow ones, which also happen to be especielly delicious, sit rotting in the soil. Sic transit gloria. We simply do not have time to preserve any substantial number. Mrs. Peculiar has been successfully sun-drying a few, however, so perhaps we'll have some fond memories of September come winter.

If one were growing crops for survival, cucurbits would seem a good horse to back. Our summer squash and cucumbers are appallingly prolific. They do require a measure of tolerance for creeping, crescent, Lovecraftian vegetable horror, though. I'm fairly convinced that if left alone for a week, many of our plants' arms would become mobile and prehensile, sprout suckers and reveal a snapping beak in the middle. It is still far too warm; a frost would bring great peace of mind. Our edamame, on the other hand, merit much praise. Our farmer saved seed he acquired in Japan, and the things are friendly, easy to harvest and carry, actually seem like they enjoy being domesticated. If only more crops desired happy symbiosis instead of despotic overlordship!

In personal news, it looks very like Delta County, Colorado will be our long-term home. Mrs. Peculiar landed laudable employment at a cider mill/distillery (there's success for you!!) in Paonia, and we have found housing. We are quite pleased.