With cooler weather, Halloween crops have come to town

The mature ashes had turned their corroded bronze colors, and fiery patches were appearing on the sun-dried tops of the other canopy trees: dark red for black and red oak; violet for white oak; scarlet for red maple and scarlet oak; green gold for beech; red gold for sugar maple; red yellow for black cherry.

— David Rains Wallace

The Moon and the Meteors

The Hickory, Black Walnut and Pecan Nutting Moon wanes throughout the period, becoming the new Travelling Toad and Frog Moon on October 6 at 6:05 a.m. and reaching perigee, its position closest to Earth on October 8 at 12:00 p.m. Rising before dawn and setting in the evening, this

Moon passes overhead in the middle of the day, encouraging creatures to be more active at that time, especially as the high-pressure systems of October 2 and 7 approach.

The Orionid meteors fall through Orion every night after midnight in October. Best viewing should be during the first weeks of the month while the moon is dark.

Weather Trends

Most of the days in the period will be in the 60s or 70s, with the latter predominating. On October 4, however, a ten percent chance of highs only in the 40s occurs for the first time since May 25, and the new moon on the 6th is likely to bring light frost to northern counties. Precipitation is lightest on the 28th ( just a 15 percent chance of showers on that date); the rest of the days this week rain comes 30 percent of the time.

Zeitgebers (Events in Nature that Tell the Time of Year)

Spicebush is yellowing as box elders are shedding. The toothed leaves of beggarticks darken to purple overnight.

Pods of the Eastern burning bush are opening; hawthorn berries redden; wild grapes are purple.

Milkweed pods burst in windy, rainy nights

Peak leaf color typically occurs in late September along the Canadian border; the best color occurs during early to middle October in most states above the Ohio Valley.

Streaks of scarlet have appeared on the oaks, shades of pink on the dogwoods throughout the Midwest and East.

Mind and Body

The S.A.D. Index, which measures seasonal stress on a scale from 1 to 100, rises sharply through the first week of October, reaching a troublesome high of 48 on October 6. The coming radical changes in the foliage, the disappearance of flowers, the morning chill and the lengthening night all combine with lunar phase to create an abrupt end to the best period of the year for seasonal balance.

In the Field and Garden

Five years in 10, a light frost has struck most parts of the lower Midwest by this date.

All around the region, leaves have turned yellow on most of the soybeans; they blend right in with the full-blooming goldenrod. In a typical year, farmers have cut two out of every three ears of silage corn.

Halloween crops have come to town. Fall apples and grapes are half picked, and the great pear, cabbage, and cauliflower harvests are underway.

Sow next spring’s garlic under the dark moon. Mark your calendar to harvest that crop in the second or third week of June.

Twenty percent of the winter wheat has ordinarily been planted by today, 20 percent of the soybeans cut. In many years, all dry onions have been harvested by today.

This week is an excellent period for digging root crops and for cutting gourds, winter squash, and pumpkins.

One afternoon last month, the air heavy, humid with low 90s, I walked in the garden so slowly, tired after maybe just 200 feet, down to the goldenrod and over to the fishpond. Medication had temporarily taken away my energy, and I could hardly tell the difference between its side effects, vague nausea and depression. What only a month or two ago seemed like such a small yard that day seemed immense.

The flowers, once too close, now seemed so far apart. The castor bean plants, some eight-feet tall, loomed like tropical trees and almost got in my way. The orange canna lilies, mixed with the yellow and magenta zinnias, were almost too bright in the three-o’clock sun. The hardy thin-leafed coneflowers were so vital and defiant they put me on my guard. The peaches were heavy on their small tree, hundreds of fruits the size of golf balls, ripening rosy as they tried to block my way. The purple phlox, unimposing yesterday, glowed with might, mocking my pale gait.

When I finally reached the pond and sat down exhausted on the bench, the koi rushed to meet me, and I laughed as I once again witnessed their apparent joy and liveliness at my arrival. They splashed and swirled and slithered over one another, sucking at the water in hopes of being fed.

The exuberance of the fish never fails to cheer me. And that afternoon it relieved the discouragement I felt at my fatigue and the sudden diminution of my world. In their wake, I told myself, I could face the vast new garden. The broad world had simply come here to this miniature habitat, space adapting to fit my need.

Bill Felker’s “Poor Will’s Almanack for 2022,” is now available. In addition to weather, farming and gardening information, reader stories and astronomical data, this edition contains 50 essays from Bill’s weekly NPR radio segment on WYSO. For your autographed copy, send $22 to: Poor Will, P.O. Box 431, Yellow Springs, Ohio 45387, or order from either Amazon or www.poorwillsalmanack.com.