The first frost
I just about cried when I realized that the frost got my garden the other night. I suppose one might say that I’ve grown a little too attached to my garden. And now that I think about it, it’s not so much the garden I was missing, it was my dahlias. Fall is the best time for the dahlias—the colors get more brilliant and the blooms are plentiful. In the cool fall air, the blooms out in the garden seem to last forever, usually right up until the end of October around here. I hoped for one more sunny afternoon in the garden with a magazine and a drink under those happy plants. It’s always just “one more,” right? But there they were, gone just a few days into October. The only flowering plant that remains untouched is nestled up beside the house, still wildly vibrant in the crisp air.
It’s not just the garden—a little planted patch of land in the backyard. It’s the stillness of digging in the cool earth on a sunny morning, pulling weeds, gathering greens and other goodness that I’ve been nurturing. I think it transports me. It’s a quiet place to think amidst the swirl of my daily activities. I miss that when I’m not in the garden.
In the middle of all of this sadness about the end of another gardening season, I’ve been thinking about all that I love about the autumnal season. After all, I do have an extensive scarf collection that’s just waiting for the cool weather. I love turning on the oven for most evening meals, roasting, braising and baking warmth and deliciousness into the cold night. Sunny afternoon walks crunching through the falling leaves. Long evenings when it is a tough choice between a hot bath or a good book and a pot of tea. Not to mention how cozy my slippers feel right now.
Not everything in my garden has been frosted yet. Oddly enough, there is still plenty of basil that made it through the chilly nights. In my experience, that is usually the first thing to go, so at the first threat of frost, I was out in the garden collecting armloads of basil to make pesto. Silly me, I should have been picking flowers. Happily the mint and the strawberries are growing steadily in the cool weather. Turns out all is not lost, I can still enjoy some delicious Moroccan mint tea and handfuls of tiny strawberries.
So when the warm weather hit this past weekend, I decided not to delay any longer on that pitcher of sangria I’d been planning on all summer. The ingredients have been seasonally adjusted to include apples and cider as crisp and refreshing as an autumn afternoon. I’m hoping there are more glorious days of fall for you to enjoy this recipe!
Hard Cider Sangria
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1 small apple, quartered and thinly sliced
1 navel orange, quartered and thinly sliced
1 1/2 cups chilled apple juice
2 tablespoons fresh squeezed lemon juice
1/4 cup brandy
1 22-oz. bottle of hard apple cider
In a pitcher, combine the sliced apples and oranges. Add the chilled apple juice, lemon juice and brandy. Allow the flavors to meld in the fridge, if time allows.
Just before serving, add the cider to the pitcher and stir to combine. Spoon some of the prepared fruit into tall glasses and fill with ice. Top with the apple cider mixture.
