Wednesday night, I had to turn the outside lights on to take the dog out for his last pee.

Then, looking across the bay, I saw one of the lights of the Meaford Land Force Training Centre. Later, I briefly saw all five.

These we see in the winter, but not when the summer foliage is full. If we can see them now, fall is arriving.

I have been seeing the signs, but wanted to ignore them.

A small maple tree with every leaf turned scarlet. Some of the leaves on a sumac turning its particular shade of red. Hints of orange on trees along Grey Road 1.

And, after a short trip to town, it seemed like more leaves had turned while I was away.

I told myself that I was just seeing a different side of the trees, but there is no denying the touch of yellow on the ash and birch. And there is no way to deny that leaves have been fading, dropping on the hills of Meaford. And here.

The up side of early fall is also here.

An abundance of cucumber. Ripe cherry tomatoes every day. Regular tomatoes starting to turn.

And corn. Not mine, but there is sweet corn at road side stands and at the farmer’s market. Succulent and tender, full cobs of yellow spattered with white. A delicious sign that summer is coming to an end.

My second planting of peas and third planting of lettuce are coming along. The third planting of peas has not sprouted yet, so likely won’t yield, but the second planting is enjoying the cool nights, has gotten to be a foot high. Snow peas will be on my late September menu.

I have not planted winter squash or pumpkin. They don’t like the style of container gardening I use. But I am sure they will start to appear at the markets. New potatoes are here, another late summer gift.

I’ve said before that the first couple times I planted a garden, I said there was no point planting potatoes.

Then, on the farm, when I had space to spare, I discovered that early fall potatoes are not the same vegetable as winter potatoes. It’s like June strawberries and the ones we can pickup in January. Not the same texture. Not the same flavour. Winter potatoes have their place, I acknowledge, but new potatoes are a gift of this season.

Some gifts are still coming.

The first harvest apples will be ready, but mostly, in my experience, these are wild apples, and I have not come any that begged to be picked and eaten. Some green ones are falling, giving food to deer and bear. Most are starting to ripen on the trees, ready to be enjoyed.

I have a plan to try again for apple butter. Last year’s turned out well though I used a shortcut method—boiling them whole. With wild apples, the process of skinning and cutting just doesn’t seem worth it, so we will see if my short cut works again.

My two cultivated trees both have a few. I am watching carefully, ready to pick and enjoy them when they are ready.

Wild grapes are still green, at least here by the shore. There are some roadside vines that are heavy with fruit. These also I will watch. They make a luscious jelly.

I am picking cherry tomatoes as they ripen, enjoying a few warm off the vine, taking in a few for salads.

I will be picking tomatoes as they ripen, and I think, with the volume I have, some will need preserving. Maybe a tomato soup for my husband who finds that easy to eat.

Cathy Hird lives on the traditional territory of the Saugeen Ojibway Nation.

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