The day is near that I will be able to choose between raspberry fig spread, gingerbread jam, cherry rhubarb, pumpkin spice compote and other preserves at the little eatery Two If By Sea on neighboring Tilighman Island. Henry, the chef and owner, keeps the place open only for breakfast and lunch. He serves the watermen and grows his own herbs, fruits and veggies, so when the menu says fresh, it means that your order will be ready once he returns from the backyard after selecting the required ingredients. As the harvest season begins, he spends more of his afternoons peeling, cooking, boiling, sterilizing jars for his preserves that go on the shelves (15 seconds after which they are all sold). Last year I bought six jars of various flavors; adding flavor to anything edible during the winter. This year I’m going to line up sooner with the local Tillbillies. (The folk who live on the island call themselves "Tillbillies".) It’s not uncommon to see a Tillbillie driving his tractor down the middle of the road; that he’s wearing his best overalls makes it all okay. In this area, “I was behind a combine for miles” is a legitimate, and ordinary, excuse for late arrival. The harbringers of fall are before us.
While coming home from my wine club meeting, which also reads books, I realized that I was driving through light fog. We are especially keen eyed during our night time sojourns because of the wildlife that tends to wander onto the road. The fog boded cooler weather ahead. Come the rays of dawn there it was: the early morning song from the first gaggle of geese to visit our waters on their journey south; clearly getting a head start for the best spot on the Florida beaches. More signs that fall is in the air.
Along the roads, the wild clematis vines cover the brush and blanket the slopes with their tiny white flowers. Clematis blooms at the beginning of fall. The smell that fills the air reminds me of the scent of jasmine, soft and lingering. I notice more people, like me, are driving with their windows open to let the floral scent waft through the car.
The cove waters are more clear, the oyster cages have less sand, and I can see more sea urchins further along the dock. Too, the remaining boats will soon be gone, replaced by ducks and geese, which also means no alarm clock will be needed for the next few months.
Walking down the lane, the first morning chill enveloped me. After quickening my pace, I discover that what I thought was the neighbor’s golden lab was a small doe. Ah yes, deer season is coming up. The poor things will be in heat at the same time that hunting season begins: they never know whether they are coming or going, love hurts, but one fatal error and they literally are road kill.
The first trees with a hint of color come into view; the cool nights and warm days bringing about their transformation. Another five weeks and we will be in full fall mode, which means more tourists searching for the “fall colors” experience.
Lest anyone think it’s all idyllic, let me say two words: black flies. These carnivores are everywhere this year. All because of the beautiful rain filled spring that also brought full green leafed trees, oversize flowers, hundreds of frogs and toads that happily ate all the mosquitos. Once again, it’s due to the pond. The Poe Pond. After the larvae have completed their development underwater, they transform into big, ugly winged adults. They leave the stream to feed and find. Adults feed only on liquids and have a longevity of 10-35 days. Female black flies require a blood meal from a warm-blooded vertebrate (such as birds, deer, or humans) to reproduce. Nice.
Oh, and then there are the roadside buzzards conspiring to experience another Mutual of Omaha event. Damn, there’s no denying it any longer; fall is in the air.
