RAVEN BAKERY
  • Home
  • About
    • Bakery
    • Find Us
    • Market Menu
  • Online Store
  • Stories
    • Newsletter Archive
    • Up Rye Zine
    • Press
    • Instagram
  • Contact
    • Jobs

The Turning Year

9/23/2017

 
The year has turned. It is time to put the garden to bed. Already I've trimmed the thyme and hacked down the reaching arms of the oregano and sylvetta arugula. Red clover is coming up between the tomatoes. The winter's greens and root crops, planted in the blazing summer when rain was still a dream, are sturdy now, if still half-sized. 

The sunflowers crowded along the back fence are a glorious splatter of yellows and orange against the darkening sky. I've been reluctant to cut them down to dry for seed, and while I've lingered, admiring, the birds have delicately picked away at their faces, while the squirrels--always less mannerly--gobble them up and scattered their dry bones across the yard. 

I've been saving the easy seeds sporadically through the summer--poppy, calendula, sweet peas--but forgot in our short window of Indian Summer to pull in the old runner and pole beans, dried black on the vine. The hairy vetch and favas, supplanted in all but a few patches by the winter greens, are likewise soggy. Perhaps I can string up the long vines to dry in the sunroom, over the boxes of blushing, not-quite-ripe tomatoes.

I love the garden this time of year, a little wild from summer neglect, and smelling of wet earth. In the winter the garden is a dream built of seed catalogs and graph paper; in the spring it is new green and hope; in the summer the garden is a cornucopia, spilling out into late evening dinner parties at the picnic table, and preserving projects that steam up the kitchen; now, in the fall, the garden is quiet. Not dead quiet, thinking quiet. There is time now to breath in the dirt and leaves, to stop and admire the bright bouquet of late flowers, volunteering beside the path, or the geometry of drying seed pods. In the spring and summer the garden is a product of my winter's planning, but the wild fall garden, it seems to me, belongs to itself. 

Saturday Market
Red & White, Mountain Rye, Vollkornbrot
Bittersweet Chocolate and Malted Chocolate Chip Cookies
Black Sesame Palmier
Apple Tart
Shortbread
Granola

Wednesday Preorder, due by Sunday night
Harvest Rye: Apple + Hazelnut
Mountain Rye
Shortbread

​See you soon!

Sophie
Owner | Baker

Comments are closed.

    BY SUBJECT

    All
    Bakery Dreaming
    Bicycles
    Books And Other Stories
    Bread Without Metaphor
    Business Values
    Changing Seasons
    Childhood
    Community
    Endings
    Harvest Forage Glean
    Home
    Kitchen Sink Philosophy
    Learning / Teaching
    Magic And Imagination
    Opinion
    Practicalities
    Starting With The Soil
    The Body
    The Commissary
    The Garden
    The Sky
    The World Outside
    Time
    Travel
    Wonder

  • Home
  • About
    • Bakery
    • Find Us
    • Market Menu
  • Online Store
  • Stories
    • Newsletter Archive
    • Up Rye Zine
    • Press
    • Instagram
  • Contact
    • Jobs