October is my favorite month, the most scenic time of year if you are lucky enough to live on a lake in northern Wisconsin. The end of summer brings not only fall colors but new rhythms of life as Mother Nature prepares for a long winter nap.
Jon and I are part of that process and must be vigilant in getting ready for the cold months. It can be a fatal mistake to be unprepared for subzero weather in the rural Northwoods. Help is a long way away, and it can take a long time to arrive if there is an emergency.
We concentrate on doing what needs to be done every year to keep warm, fed, and safe. Having experienced several extended power outages in the last few years, one big upgrade is installation of a large battery to store electricity our solar panels are so good at generating.
Jon’s main contributions in October involve bringing in the pontoon, dock, water toys, and deck furniture, He also preps the snowblower and stocks in a good supply of kindling and firewood. All that he has left to do is bring home a deer, because venison is almost the only red meat we consume.
My tasks are more on the domestic side. I start in late summer to stock the larder and fill the freezers. I’m a morning person and usually out of bed before the sun comes up. Being an early riser means I get a lot done before he comes looking for his first cup of coffee. Being alone with my thoughts also allows me to quietly observe the wonder and beauty of the transition from night to day.
Some days begin more memorably than others. For example, on the last Tuesday in September, the sunrise was extra-spectacular. Old Sol took his time inching up into a cloudless azure sky, festooning it with stunning yellow, orange and red hues. He obviously found the cloudless sky a perfect canvas to showcase his artistic talent. The scene included a breathtaking image of fall colors provided by the accelerating transformation of sumac and deciduous trees.
Early turners, birch, maple, and poplar were ablaze in a montage of yellow, orange and red against a cloudless sky. The less flashy species — oak, beech, ash, and basswood — provided a perfect contrast. The final touch was a variety of shades of green delivered by white, red, and jack pines and balsam trees. Altogether, they turned the woods into a picture-perfect postcard that morning.
Drinking in my fill of beauty, I decided to check the flower gardens. I admired how good they looked as I weeded and mulched a few days earlier. I wait to cut back dead foliage until spring because beneficial insects use it for a cozy winter bed, but I always pile extra mulch around the sides of cold-sensitive plants to use as a blanket after the first hard frost.
There was one new thing I reluctantly did this year. I hate using poison of any kind in the garden or yard, but I applied a grub preventative to the lawn. I absolutely cannot have a repeat infestation of Japanese beetles that feasted on my Honey Crisp apple tree this year.
Turning to go back into the house, I stopped when I saw a deer approaching. My pet does Sedona, Mesa and Phoenix, visit regularly, but this one I did not recognize. She started munching on the windfall apples I’d thrown out on the lawn. She was very skittish but cocked her ears when I spoke softly.
“Happy to meet you, ah, you need a name. I think I’ll call you Dolly.”
She seemed to like it and stood listening as I sang to her but scurried away when I got too close.
“It’s OK, Dolly. It always takes time to bond.”
I took one last moment to contemplate the wonders of nature before forcing myself to get going on my lengthy to-do list. Like the natural world, I start early getting ready for winter. I’ve already stocked my pantry with foods grown or gathered here.
There are rows of glass jars in the pantry containing home-canned tomatoes, applesauce, pickles and relish. The freezer is stuffed with blackberry, raspberry and cherry jam, large packages of broccoli, corn, and beans, six quarts of soup, several casseroles, and five ready-to-bake pies: apple, rhubarb, cherry and blackberry. All we need now is Jon’s contribution, the venison.
As I came back inside, Jon was up and having his first cup of coffee. We shared our usual morning hug, and I said a silent prayer to thank God for giving me this man and our little corner of the world to cherish and protect. I ended with a promise to do my best to ensure that it’s left in tiptop condition for the next caretakers. Amen.
Kathleen Marsh is a lifelong educator, writer and community advocate. She has published eight books, four on the history of Townsend, where she and husband Jon are happily retired on the beautiful Townsend Flowage.
Sedona, one of several does that regularly visit Kathleen Marsh’s home, stops to look around. (Kathleen Marsh)
It’s starting to look a lot like fall on the Townsend Flowage, where the crystal waters are accentuated by the colors of the leaves changing. (Kathleen Marsh)
