A Celebration of Autumn

The equinox has arrived and with it the colours and smells of autumn.  My tomatoes are finally ripening under their plastic canopy and I can't believe how juicy and delicious they are.
 I must have planted a couple of ever-bearing raspberries in the spring when I was putting in the raspberry patch because here they are, steadily giving up one or two or 5 ripe raspberries long after the season has ended and their leaves are turning. There are just enough for cereal toppings.  I have high hopes for next year's crop.
When Libby and I were out walking this morning through the park we came upon a big pile of leaves raked up and just waiting for someone to jump in it, and crunch through it.  That is a wonderful sound,  the crunch of  dried leaves underfoot on an autumn walk while yellow and orange leaves drift down from the tree branches in the breeze.  The colours of autumn in Alberta are gentle, soft, golden mostly with the backdrop of the evergreens for contrast.  And there is a crispness in the air that is energizing.
Growing up in my little town we had a wonderful time making big piles of the cottonwood leaves for jumping in.  We also raked the leaves into imaginary rooms. We built kitchens, livingrooms and bedrooms complete with imaginary doors and windows.  The bedroom had piled up beds of leaves.  The livingroom had a sculpted leaf chesterfield.  Then, when all the fun was over and my dad had had enough, the mounds of leaves were raked to the side of the road where he set fire to them. The scent of burning leaves carefully tended, with the garden hose not far away to douse the fire when it had burned down to ashes, is a lovely autumn memory for me.
I'm quite impressed with the gourds growing out of one lone plant in the raised garden.  There might even be some to decorate the Thanksgiving table with.  I have no idea why else I thought I needed to grow them but they have given me no end of amusement watching the vines snake all over the garden.  Cheeky plant.