The Subtlety of November

There's Magic in the Mundane

November is a time of transition on any farm. The vibrancy of autumn is settling into a more subdued but vital phase. As the days shorten and the temperatures drop, there is more time for reflection and appreciation of what we have accomplished this year on the farm and what it has provided. There is profound beauty in the timeless, cyclical rhythm of farming. 

Our first freeze came a little earlier than expected, but not too far off from the November 5 prediction from the Farmer’s Almanac. We were able to harvest pounds of tomatoes and okra as well as broccoli, cabbage, goldenrod, mullein, feverfew, mint, rosemary, and Tulsi basil before the 28F nights of October 30-November 1. The dark side of keeping chickens that people don’t talk about much is that the hens’ egg production is already tapering off (except for the Wyandottes– those girls are hardy!), and I have the exciting new chore of breaking up the ice in their gravity-fed waterer each morning in the freezing cold. It’s going to be painful if and when I have to buy eggs from a store or neighbor while still feeding and tending to the chickens every day.

In the last days of October, we planted loads of garlic along with the winter cover crop, lettuces, kale, and radishes. We hope to have a somewhat consistent supply of these staples throughout most of the winter, except the garlic which should be ready for harvesting in the spring. Before planting the garlic, the beds were home to pumpkins, tomatoes, basil, okra, and marigolds. We had multiple rounds of squash bugs which decimated our late summer pumpkin crop, which is a problem because I would like to grow pumpkins and other squashes for years to come. There are two ways I know of to get rid of squash bugs (and I’m not sure either of them are fool proof): squishing each individual adult bug, known as “hand-picking,” or killing them with fire. We tried hand-picking and it wasn’t enough to keep them at bay for long. So, before planting the garlic, we chopped down the skeletal bodies of the plants that stood, mixed them with dried leaves and a few other burnables, and made a few small fires atop the beds. We hope that this burned out any squash bug larvae burrowed into the soil, so that next year we may at least have a more manageable population. A small amount of fire adds nutrients to the soil and will hopefully make for a more fertile environment for future crops:

“Soil fertility can increase after low intensity fires since fire chemically converts nutrients bound in dead plant tissues and the soil surface to more available forms or the fire indirectly increases mineralization rates through its impacts on soil microorganisms.” Fire Effect on Soil (nau.edu) 

The effects of fire on living soil are complex, so we treated this as an experimental procedure, only doing it to parts of the bed where we saw squash bugs previously. 

We celebrated Halloween with our annual “Haunted Fox Holloween” party with close friends and family. Though it was too cold for the cryptid-themed soiree to happen in the forest with a bonfire like I had planned, we had a great time indoors with great food, drinks, and people. I dressed up as Moth Ma’am, the saucier version of the Appalachian cryptid Mothman, and helped my partner transform into a skeleton. I had the best time making lime green punch with fake eyeballs, pumpkin chili, and cornbread only after elaborately decorating our home (complete with red and purple lightbulbs in place of the usual ones), curating a spooky playlist, and making treat bags for the kids. Honestly, it was in large part for my own enjoyment, but I am thrilled to have good people to help celebrate my favorite time of year. I feel I have celebrated October and the spooky months to the fullest of my ability, so I can happily move on to the next season— with excitement and lots of ideas for next year.

Reflecting on last November, I have been trying to remember what I enjoyed about this period of time. I always look forward to October and the swift seasonal change that it brings, but I dread post-Halloween. In childhood, Christmas was always my favorite time of year. I was the only child to a single mother in a small family and the adults in my life always made the season feel very special with very little. I try to do the same for myself and my family today.

I get quickly overwhelmed by the commercialism of the winter holidays which comes on so fast. It’s always a constant onslaught of shopping ads and pressure to buy nice gifts. The past few years, we have put more energy into celebrating the winter solstice by focusing on spending more time together, being creative, gathering seasonal nature objects like evergreen cones and needles, indulging in rich, warm food and drinks, and only participating in one small family gift exchange (I try to incorporate a handmade element if possible). I much prefer this nature-based approach to celebrating the holidays. My friend/sister-in-law hosts an annual solstice celebration for her children (my niece and nephews) and their friends which is always immaculately planned and full of joy for the kids and childlike wonder for the adults.

Looking through photos from this time last year, I remembered gathering cedar and pine needles for simmer pots filled with cinnamon, vanilla, apple, and anise. I spent time going on walks in the woods with my partner and cat and watched the pond fill up after a long, dry summer. I also baked plenty of bread, pie crusts, and other goodies, inspired by the stand mixer my grandmother passed down to me as a birthday gift. It was truly life changing to no longer have to knead the bread by hand (I am not lazy, just have bad wrists!). I also watched a lot of Gilmore Girls while drawing with my cat (see photo below).

It has been a good year for apples in the Ozarks. Our local community center came upon literal tons of fresh apples and held a giveaway over the weekend. I was ecstatic at the prospect of free and locally grown apples. I didn’t get a chance to go apple picking this year, and I’ve been wanting to try making apple butter for a while now, and this was a perfect opportunity to try it out. We hopped in the van and drove over on a Friday evening. It turned out that the center was also selling homemade Indian tacos that evening, so it was a double win. We spread out a blanket and enjoyed the food, three full plastic bags of apples sitting beside us. 

The next day, I was fortunate to have a willing partner to help prep by peeling and coring the apples. In a few short hours we were able to put away two-gallon freezer bags of apples to be used for pies this holiday season. I also made my first attempt at apple butter. After all that work for the freezer apples, I was thrilled to find out you don’t have to peel the apples for the apple butter recipe. I cored and chopped them, tossed them with lemon juice, spices, salt, and maple syrup, then added them to a small amount of water and put them on the stove to simmer. After a couple of hours, I let the mush cool and added them to the stand mixer bowl, using the whisk attachment to blend them up. The recipe called for an immersion blender, which would have worked much better. I do not own one, so my apple butter is a bit chunkier than I expected, but still delicious. Now I’ve still got two full bags of apples, so I’ll be getting creative in the next couple of days.

In the midst of processing bushels of apples, preparing the gardens for winter, and observing nature's transitions, I think about how November reminds us to recognize and embrace simplicity. The crunch of fallen leaves underfoot, the aroma of freshly picked apples, the sudden changes in the colors of the landscape, and the warmth of shared moments around the fireplace remind us to appreciate the quiet, unassuming aspects of life. November invites us to revel in the mundane details of our surroundings. It's in these everyday tasks and gentle changes that we find the essence of seasonal beauty.

So, as we move into the brisk winds of the coming winter, hold onto the charm of November's subtleties. Savor the small pleasures, relish the warmth of community, and find solace in the simplicity of this transitional month. Within these unassuming moments lies the magic of seasonal change and the joys of life's natural rhythms.

This month, I want to try my hand at making sourdough loaves from the starter living for months in my refrigerator, spend time outdoors with friends, and enjoy the extra sleep the shortening days inevitably force upon me. Soon I’ll share how my second try at brewing kombucha turns out, along with another plant profile and some of my favorite November recipes.

Fervently/warmly,

Allyson