Summer winding down, picking out a half a dozen trees to paint with yellow, orange, red. Dried vines still hold a few winter butternut squash, the leaves that hid the blossoms in a jungle long since gone. You have to look much harder at the peach trees now, to spot the few remaining from the changing leaves. All told, I’ll bet a thousand peaches later, I did a decent job of picking clean.
Inside, the fruit gurgles into wine. Tomatoes simmer into sauce. I’m tired, so very tired.