Yesterday, I discovered two things:
1 – That I am not as afraid of spiders as I once was, and
2 – That we have a resident Shower Spider. (I named her Betty. Do I know that she’s female? No, but who likes the idea of some creepy, spider lech spectating while they shower? Exactly. Betty it is.)
Here, you can meet Betty too:
(Note her dangerous proximity to my bath pouf. I’m all for cohabitation, but I draw the line at discovering a spider scurrying within the nylon web of the bath pouf. *shudder*)
The Boy, who was walking past as I was chasing Betty up the wall with the camera to snap a photo commented, “Oh, yeah, she’s been there for a couple days.” When I responded that I knew, and planned to blog about it, and wasn’t he proud of me for my Naked In The Presence Of A Spider With No Screaming bravery? He looked puzzled, saying he’d known I wasn’t afraid of spiders. I responded by looking equally puzzled.
According to The Boy, I’m only scared of earwigs. Foolish Boy; I’m scared of many more bugs than that. (Hello, venomous insects? Worse still, venomous flying insects.) However, spiders I am determined to welcome into my home because, like dragonflies, they eat other bugs*. This one’s big enough that I’m hopeful it’ll actually eat earwigs.
* Yes, yes, I know. Earwigs eat other bugs too. But this is where The Boy is wrong: I’m not scared of earwigs — I am disgusted by them. They just gross me out and I can’t stand them. Also, the little creeps eat my plants.
I donned my mitts for the drive into work because the outside just had That Look. That not-frosty, but definitely crisp look. It’s officially mitten weather, folks. I’m not sorry, exactly, although I am a little sad to see summer go. I was hoping for another (small) crop, which would have required a couple more weeks of warm sunshine, but that doesn’t look likely at this point. I’m getting concerned about my tomatoes splitting in the low night temperatures, and wondering if the tomatillos are likely to do the same. (I don’t think so, but I don’t know how they respond to the cold, and mine are this close to being ready). If these cool nights keep up, it looks like I’ll be harvesting more than a few green tomatoes along with everything else.
I am looking forward to fall though, with the colourful leaves, the fantastic woodsmoke smell starting up everywhere, the cooler weather so I feel less guilty about baking more (although I’ve been doing a fair amount of baking anyway) and the excuse for hot chocolate or warm cider, and cozy hang-outage with friends.
(Although, really, I guess I already did that tonight. I’m not big on the Starbucks, but I did enjoy their caramel-apple thing. Just, order it with no whip. I don’t know whose idea it was to put whipped cream on a cider drink, but yuck.)
I’m excited about digging through my beds (and digging the new one for future berries) before putting them to sleep for the winter, about starting my charts and seed-planning for next year’s veggie starts, about getting a couple more of my requested seed catalogues in the mail, and the whole winter day-dreaming part of the gardening season.
Trying not to think too much about how the happy harvesting time is drawing to a close, mostly by distracting myself with thoughts of apple-picking, and sauerkraut-making. What’s that? I don’t even like sauerkraut? Shush. I might learn.
THIS TIME LAST YEAR
A little before pulling on my mitts this morning, I had just finished frosting a cake for work (partly because I hadn’t brought one in awhile, mostly to celebrate a new team member!) when I checked my email to see my photo time capsule from last year showing… a cake that I’d brought to work. Also featuring whipped cream frosting. Huh. Apparently fall = chiffon cake with whipped cream frosting?
And here I thought it was all about the apple products. (And sauerkraut.)